DOSE: T+ 0:00	3 hits	oral	LSD	(gel tab)
T+ 48:00	1 hit	smoked	Cannabis

BODY WEIGHT:

120 lb

Finally alone, he whispered into my ear:
'now, let us be spirited to your lovely cave, up top this urban canyon cliff, and slither under thine loft, into a certain special glowing chamber, so that we might dissolve ourselves to fluid and lightning...'

Words I shall never forget, for they began one of the finest SOA-marathons in a young life where Sex On Acid was my absolute favourite art, sport, hobby, and religion...

---
I'm glad I spent my first five years of 'legal adulthood' with no priority (other than survival) beyond doing what I worked my ass off FOR while I was in high school: to Get The Grades, Pass The SAT With a Not Merely Average Score, and in general, do all required of me to get that letter from the University of California at Berkeley accepting me as a student. I wanted to be an English major and an art minor so I could learn to write books and design album covers.

Except that was just what I told everyone who was a family member, a teacher or other academic employee, or any adult save for a few I'd met through my first 'high school sweetheart', two years older than I and a bit unfit for me as a companion...though that hadn't really been noticed until we tried to live together while I started my freshman year at Cal.

What I told everyone else was the truth. I knew university wasn't going to teach me how to write or paint - especially since my interest was in commercial art, and in 1983, people didn't have home computers to do that sort of thing with. The truth was that I did all that work - successfully - so that I could escape Los Angeles and move to the San Francisco Bay Area and live where the LSD people were. And where the LSD itself, naturally, would be.

My grades weren't too bad considering how much acid I took in the 1980s. Not to sound like I'm trying to brag, but just to give you an idea of how unlike me YOU probably are, I'd guess that I've tripped about 1500 times or more from 1981 to 2010 (though the latest trip was sadly underdosed, I was thankful to have it at all, since hardly anyone in the USA - even here in Frisco - can FIND LSD anymore, due to the problems with manufacture and distribution that changes of laws and the end of the Grateful Dead distribution channels caused).

---
But enough about this depressing century.

1983-1984 was the time of being eighteen, female, pretty and free. I dumped the high school boyfriend rather quickly after noticing his reading comprehension might have been around fourth or fifth grade level and whenever I said words he didn't know, he'd sort of feign attention and change the subject to fixing cars or stereos. That was his thing. He never read a book voluntarily in his life. When I found out how different it was to be actually listened to by fellow intelligentsia, I realized I was not in love with him, and I explained it as clearly as I could. He'd cheated on me a few times. I didn't feel all that bad about leaving him.

About three months after becoming single I went tripping with a total straight girl who somehow became fascinated with me, and went walking in San Francisco after taking BART over from Berkeley. We saw a head shop on Market Street where Haight crosses it: the Jimi Hendrix Electric Church Paraphernalia Shoppe. Naturally, I veered instantly into the psychedelic environs like a frog jumping into a quiet little brook. My friend giggled. Our basketball pupils made us look like those little puppy dogs from old-time velvet paintings.

The boy behind the counter noticed me immediately. His eye and my eye touched in midair above our noses. He had recently had a dose himself and I knew it, though his pupils were normal.

'You were just where I am just beginning to go. With T. here,' I said, introducing him to the straightest looking girl he'd ever seen. He started laughing in disbelief, but when T. began talking about how blue the BART station was and about the suggestive shapes of the smoking implements in the store, M. was assuaged - I was really the ripe young hippie chick, dressed as if I'd walked out of a time machine from 1971: in paisley blouse and suede fringe vest, tall go-go boots and an op-art mini, with my hair permed so it leapt from my head like pretty vines and little red serpents.

That's what I was known as back then. I introduced myself as Psyche. Psyche A. Serpentflower. When asked what the A stood for, I said 'Acidophilus'. We exchanged data on matchbook covers, in the way such things were done in 1983.

By 1984, we were joined at the hip, but more importantly, the mind.

---
It would have been around June when we took this particular trip, though there'd been many before it and many after it to come, until we mutually separated when school started again; it was the easiest parting of all my life's relationships, which is odd, since we were perfect for one another. It's just that with him at 20 and me at 18, we were too young to know how perfect we were.

It seems, owing to experiences in later years, that most males - even guys who enjoy taking LSD and navigate it well - are not that comfortable with the idea of sexual intercourse while tripping. I was terribly disappointed, after a three and a half year crush on someone later on, to find that despite his incredible level of psychotropic experience, that his feelings on the matter were 'I doubt I'd ever be able to even get an erection, while all that distraction from an acid trip was going on.'

M. fell right into me the first night we spent together - tripping the next night all night long and having sex on and off again for literally hours. The splendour and promise had me glowing like I had become a star. My vagina suddenly was a powerful thing, not just something to tease with and make silly, dumb girlie jokes about: it was a VOLCANO, a BLACK HOLE, a VORTEX. And M. didn't, as my prior lover constantly had, always ask me to 'wear more femmy clothes' or 'act more like a girl'. He turned out to be bisexual, a 'rent boy', and though 1983 was the year AIDS first broke, I was not afraid. We used the condoms and did not even feel them because with acid, the connexion was electrical, not physical, and the divine current permeated where the virus could not.

The night in June we'd just been on a double acid-date with M. and I, plus T. and her new friend J. They kindasorta had a romantic thing going, but she was still saving herself for marriage, I think - she lived a double life that amused me. J. lived one of his own. He was in the process of getting free of the Navy, beginning to go to Mills College and become a musician. J. took the rest of us to the music room at Mills to see the tremendous Buchla synthesizer. M. and I could barely comprehend it but as our doses started creeping up on us slowly, we kept shooting each other beatific smiles while lost in the Tangerine-Dreamish music J. was making. Once the 'cid really kicked in, those smiles started getting more and more erotic, and we grabbed each other, sat facing one another in two metal chairs and calmly lay our foreheads together.

We stayed like that for an hour. Time was playing goofy delightful games with both of us, keeping us clothed, yet allowing us to begin the sexual marathon without anyone else truly aware of what we were actually doing.

But finally, when J could get us back to the co-op I lived at - a famous place called Barrington Hall where my reputation as Acid Queen was fast establishing itself - we were dropped off in front of its doors, when the statement at the top of this report was whispered in my ear by M.

I shall never forget the ZAP! that threw my whole body into simultaneous freeze and lava-melt. The peak of erotic experience, I feel, was had that summer and the one having it was me.

This was what I'd come to Berkeley for - except for one thing. It was turning out to be better - FAR better - than I'd ever thought possible.

---
We raced upstairs to my little room on the third floor, dived for the floor. Every Barrington single had a loft bed in it, but I took my mattress and put it on the floor, stapled tapestries to it like a tent or a kid's 'fort', put a blacklight, lava lamp, and two strobelights set to slightly different speeds, one with a red film over it, the other with a blue film. Posters, chalk art, graffiti and murals covered every square inch of my 'cave'. Every little corner glowed and moved and flashed and when we entered, all but ripping our clothing out of the way, our skins became instantly tattooed by poster moire patterns slithering out of their bounds and escaping to cover us in divine synaesthesias as the music we'd chosen - probably the tape full of Doors, Hendrix, and obscure garage psychedelia I'd grabbed off the local college radio station - was seemingly making the escaped poster tattooing pulse.

And then as promised, we instantly dissolved into each other. M. had no trouble at all with erections while tripping - and HARD (referencing both the tripping and the erections). He was in heaven, it turned out, because later on, he admitted to me that everyone else he had slept with before me, boy or girl, never got it on while tripping without some weirdness interrupting things and screwing up the relationship. This never got a chance to happen with me: I WAS - and STILL AM - DESIGNED TO FUCK ON ACID. It has always been my favourite thing to do in life since the very first time. (Though I'm still designed for tripsex, even better at it for all the experience, it is at this point sadly as an obsolescency, having neither acid nor any partner to take it with, at least on this plane...)

The tricks to having sex on acid the way we did that night - which turned into a 48 hour marathon! Are actually quite simple. And though a lot of genderbending goes on in this experience, with me becoming him and him becoming me especially at peaktimes, I now know that male sexuality is wired to be more physical, less complexity and mental stuff seems to be easy for guys to sexualize compared to women. Perhaps bisexuality made it far easier for M. than it would have been for someone absolutely hetero.

But let me, please, share a few pointers that, if they help even ONE person have successful orgasmic 'ultrawave' experience even a sixteenth as ecstatic as what happened that night/day/night we spent in that little room, coming out of the Cave only as necessary to get water, release it, and eat simple fruit and cereal while between rounds...then I will have taken my Gift and passed it to someone else, which is the point of this report.

- We spent time fucking, then if he got soft or I got dry, we simply withdrew the physical plug and socketry, and with soft touches, a few kisses and happy thoughts, took breaks. While munching on nectarines, we'd ask each other questions like 'what's the silliest hallucination you ever had?' or 'quick, name five songs we haven't heard yet tonight that you'd like to, whether I've got them to play or not...' I asked him what the first dirty joke he ever heard as a kid was. He asked me to give him a massage while telling him an erotic story. (It turned out to be about a flower, floating on a river into a deep grotto, where a great Serpent lived, and how the flower and the serpent made it. He totally 'grokked' the subtextual elements and when I finished it, explained it was what went through my head when I had my first orgasm on LSD. (Hence the early moniker of 'Serpentflower'.)

- Sometimes, we'd have music on, but allowed for silence, too. We spent fifteen minutes - we THINK, it may have been much longer - seeing who could sit in a lotus and remain completely quiet, still and internally manifest the same simple image - a glowing crisscross grid that would at highest energy glow purple, at lowest, fade to grey, and using nothing but our minds, bring each others' grids to glow violet. We succeeded. I gently told him if he saw grey, either in me or in himself, to not be alarmed, but to experience it without positive or negative value. The weird thing is I never ever read or heard lectures or took any classes on yoga or similar practises. I was winging this all the way.

- For about a half-hour, M. was troubled by something he had not told me, and was afraid to say anything. I said, 'it's no longer a gamble. If you tell me, I might be upset at the thing, or - as was the case when you revealed your bisexuality - be thrilled about it, or feel neither bad or good. But if you choose to hold it in, everything stops for both of us. So he told me. Turned out to be something totally unimportant, a physical condition he had that I had not even noticed, so everything ended up flowers.

- We began to get horny again. Since he'd done a lot of physical effort in the hours prior I got on top and experimented with some serious domination - not with whips and chains. Hallucinations are SO much more fun. We were developing occasional flashes of telepathy by now, too...which made things very interesting. I put on some grinding noise and in the three hours to follow we experienced the ultrawave.

- Yes, I chalked the time upon the wall when I began coming. By the time the undulations stopped, I'd come for 45 minutes pretty much nonstop. M. came three times, with the ten-to-fifteen minute between times spent just watching me become God, then handing the power to him so he could explode, after which it was returned to me...almost an hour of this finally left us spent.

After an hour of drifting we both opened our eyes wide, stared into each other's eyes and said WOW!!!!!!!!! at exactly the same time, pulled like taffy to stretch into about twelve seconds.

We made sure to eat cereal and more fruit, and down lots of orange juice and vitamins, then smoked indica, about one bong hit apiece, and collapsed into a heap. We slept for 24 hours, but sometime during our sleep we're pretty sure we either had sex one last time or dreamed of it at the same time.

The next morning, he made me drink wheat grass juice, which I hated, but loved because it was from him, and maybe it did infuse us with a quick shot of B vitamins. That sort of sex is made for Gods, not humans, The body takes ages to recover.

But man, is it worth it?

Ya think?

M. is one name I've failed to find turn up via the net, sadly suggesting either death or prison was his fate. If he's out there, though, maybe we should retain memories of each other as we were then, not now, in our old, worn bodies...

These memories eat their weight in stress whenever properly invoked by me.

I had successful acid sex with only two other persons after 1984... One was a veteran, who I was with from 1985 to 1990 and am still friends with. The other had a remarkable potential, as proven by my initiation into two experiences, but then he made a mistake and answered The Wrong Phone Call - and I take blame as initiatrix, having forgotten to tell my lover NEVER answer a phone on acid. Sparing nightmare details, it was the last he ever wanted to do with drugs of any sort from then on. But the first two times were fun. I hope he can remember that. And for many years he was the only person I could enjoy sex without tripping with. I lost him to a straight girl in 2006, and have never quite been the same ever since. But did 'get through it', even if not 'over' it.

Sadly, though, no-one else wants to do this Fabulous Adventuring with me any more. Our bodies are older, uglier, slower, our minds baggage-laden, though if acid were around it would go a long way towards helping me lose a lot of mine I've no need or desire to keep. Alas, though...it's moot anyway, since Lambda Sigma Delta is gone. The Lysergica lives on the other side of the world now....in Russia and Eastern Europe, I hear... While America takes a turn at living under a worsening police state. Pole shift, maybe? The Russians deserve some innocent raving, tripping years. They've been through decades of Hell for ages.

Sex on Acid is without a doubt what LIFE is ALL ABOUT for me, so I thank the Powers that Be I got a LOT of it while Young and Ripe.

And if the chance ever comes again...if the Ultra-Miracle rains down on me...I'm ready. To teach, be taught, and remember!

[Reported Substance: ''green gel windowpane'']

Exp Year: 1984	ExpID: 93779
Gender: Female
Age at time of experience: 18
Published: Dec 10, 2025	Views: Not Supported
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