By Dr. Susan Block It’s our 23rd year of lawfully wedded love and lust, and Capt’n Max and I start the celebration early, just the two of us “partying like bonobos” in bed, climaxing in each other’s arms, the arms we’ve gotten to know so well but, happily, never tired of, lo these 23+ years. Wild and kinky as we are, we’re also very much married, sharing and being “witnesses” to each other’s lives, creating and constantly recreating the romance that just seems to deepen and grow between us as we age. But no couple is an island. Certainly, we aren’t! As much as we cherish our two-way intimacy, we need our Bonoboville community to keep us from going insane or letting our monogamy turn to monotony. One reason our “monogamish” (with a hat tip to Dan Savage and the forthcoming Tao Ruspoli film of that name) marriage seems to work is that we share our love, lust and romance with our Bonoboville of friends, lovers and interesting strangers.

What a night! What an excellent, eye-popping, mind-opening, heart-expanding, nipple-freeing, butt-spanking, female-ejaculating, beautiful and very bonoboësque evening with friends, lovers and some rather exciting newcomers, just proving The Dr. Susan Block Show more than merits its title, “The Greatest Sexuality Show on Earth.”

I enjoy reading all kinds of erotica, from the Bible’s lyrical Song of Songs to Rachel Kramer Bussel’s kinky Cleis Press anthologies and, of course, Anne Rice’s Beauty books. But I could not get through the “erotic” best-seller of all time, 50 Shades of Grey—not even Book 1 of the trilogy. The characters are just so unbelievable, the dialogue so vacuous, the sex so clichéd, the BDSM so contrived and the descriptions so mind-numbingly repetitive, I simply couldn’t stomach more than 50 pages of 50 Shades. Just as the irritatingly naïve lead character, Anastasia Steele, barfs all over her first date with the equally annoying billionaire-dreamboat, Christian Grey, I felt like barfing all over lines like “her curiosity oozes through the phone,” “Holy Crap” (repeated about 50 times, with slight variations like “Double Crap” and “Triple Crap”), “stroking his impressive length,” and “I don’t make love. I fuck.” I mean, how cheesy can you get?

by Dr. Susan Block It’s Summer Solstice Eve, the night before the longest day of the year, when the golden sun shines longest upon the Northern Hemisphere, and my featured guest is one of the sunniest personalities in porn: Nina Hartley. From her golden halo of blonde hair to her signature, round, bouncy butt, not to mention her beaming smile, bright repartee and radiant sex-positivity, Nina shines like the summer sun, so it’s no wonder she lights up this show with fun and sexual wisdom.

by Dr. Susan Block It’s Summer Solstice Eve, the night before the longest day of the year, when the golden sun shines longest upon the Northern Hemisphere, and my featured guest is one of the sunniest personalities in porn: Nina Hartley. From her golden halo of blonde hair to her signature, round, bouncy butt, not to mention her beaming smile, bright repartee and radiant sex-positivity, Nina shines like the summer sun, so it’s no wonder she lights up this show with fun and sexual wisdom. On a mission to promote the Woodhull Sexual Freedom Alliance, which is on a mission to “affirm sexual freedom as a fundamental human right” Nina is accompanied by fellow Woodhull board member (and former Young Republican), Danny O’Neill. They’re excited about Woodhull’s upcoming “Summit,” to be held August 14-17, 2015 in Alexandria, Virginia, a long, lusty, sapiosexual weekend of discussions, seminars, networking events, trainings, parties and, of course, orgies (what’s sexual freedom without orgies?)—like last year, only bigger, better and more orgiastic, right by our nation’s capital.

by Dr. Susan Block Friends, Romans, FemDoms, lend me your ears! I cum to bury Valentine’s Day (not to praise it)… and to resurrect the Lupercalia for modern times. Lupercalia is the original holiday of the heart, the wild municipal whipping party referenced most famously in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, which the Catholic Church sanitized and Hallmark commercialized into what we now call Valentine’s Day.

Air Date: 09/29/2012

Are great actors often driven by exhibitionism, the erotic desire to be seen? Moreover, in our age of Youtube, Twitter and Facebook, can any exhibitionist with a camera phone be an “actor” (possibly even an international celebrity, should their Internet exhibitionism go viral)? These are two of the great questions we address—body, mind and soul—in this dramatic, farcical and orgasmic show, featuring a distinguished and charming member of one of theatrical history’s greatest, most important, virtually royal families—the Barrymores—and three delightful actor/exhibitionists who also happen to be porn stars.

by Dr. Susan Block Freedom is the greatest aphrodisiac, but restraint is a close second. It’s one of the many ironies of sex that some of the freest people get off on giving up their freedom—consensually, of course. They may be turned on by being “forced” to experience things that they really want but don’t feel free to receive unless they’re restrained. They may be aroused by struggling against the restraints or surrendering as they enter “sub space.” This is one of the bedrock principles of BDSM. Another principle is theater. BDSM (Bondage & Discipline, Dominance & Submission, Sado-Masochism) is dramatic, and I don’t mean Fifty Shades of Holy Crap drama; I mean the living theater of intimate power exchange, the potent poetry of mixing pleasure with pain as you play—with an audience. This show’s guests of honor are masters of BDSM play. So it’s natural that they’re now creating “plays,” i.e., theatrical entertainments spotlighting the drama of BDSM, engaging in themes of passion (the latin passio means “to suffer”), intimacy, discovery, healing, consensuality and control.

Date: 08/17/2012

Vegas is packed with people who play it safe in life, then blow all their hard-earned cash into the mouths of machines that light up like a lover’s eyes, mid-climax. Then there’s the sound of Vegas: all that beeping and squealing, bizarrely resembling orgasm after mechanical orgasm. As long as you keep caressing those sensitive slots with money shots, it never stops.

Vegas-style gambling is a Weapon of Mass Seduction. Personally, I prefer to place my bets on my own relatively high-risk work and play: my amazing 20-year marriage that most folks said wouldn’t last, my unconventional sex therapy practice, my uncategorizable show and my belief in ethical hedonism and the Bonobo Way of peace through pleasure. The odds of winning the kind of “games” I like to play are riskier than black jack, and the path to victory is a minefield littered with losers, lovers, foes and friends who trip your every step. But the joy is in the playing—in doing it, as the great gambler Sinatra sang, “My Way.” And every so often, if you play long, hard and “my way” enough, with a little help from Lady Luck, you might win.

Air Date: 06/09/2012

It’s another unforgettable orgy in the Womb Room. And what is the cause for celebration this time? To quote the sagacious inscription on the goblet I received as a gift: “It’s My Fucking Birthday!” And what a bon anniversaire bacchanal of epic proportions it is, commencing with me popping out of my own cake (concocted by RadioSUZY1 producer and passionate cake fetishist Tasia Sutor, assisted by artist Yossie Vardan), surrounded by some of the world’s hottest sexpots, sexperts and sex maniacs in full-on, ecstatic celebration mode. Then things really go off! And by “things” I mean most of my guests’ clothing as we pile up more beauties in the bed for Sybian rides, spanking, pole-dancing, Adult Play Parlor sex toys for all, Kinky Eddie sex toys for me, sword swallowing (both the sideshow and fellatio variety—at the same time!), as couples and clusters sex it up until the break of dawn on various beds and couches of the Speakeasy, in celebration of the very first “sex act” of my long and rather sexual life.

Yes indeed, brothers and sisters, we are all born from sex. With all due respect to the Virgin Mother, real mothers are not virgins. Neither are fathers. Sex is what brings us into the world, and sex is what motivates us to stick around for a while. Praise be to the power and glory of sex! It keeps you young. And you keep me young. At least you—my readers, listeners, lovers, viewers, friends, clients, tweeps, my awesome, ever-changing socialist/capitalist BonoboVille community—keep me from ever growing up. The proof is in this party. Thank you all for helping to make my crazy marvelous life possible.