Arts, Activism, Awakening in Mind, Body, & Spirit

Archive for May, 2012

What Has ‘Aroused Woman’ Inspired YOU to Try?


C’mon, ladies and gents!

Time to spill the beans. :) I’d love to know if anything here on Aroused Woman has inspired YOU to take better care of your self (yes, that was spaced, your self).

I am still smiling over the comment left by one reader whose  girlfriend noticed a change in their lovemaking after he read some of my posts here on AW.

Feel free to leave a comment on this post — either a brief mention or detailed comment on how AW has helped you get in touch with yourself or your female partner… or if your approach to women and women’s sexuality has been changed in any way. Remember, comments can be left anonymously.

This can be a solo experience, and/or with your partner, or even a “Calgon, take me away!” moment… a change in your energy, an awakening somehow… or maybe you got some ideas from my excerpt I just released on Amazon Kindle (wink!).

Can’t wait to hear from all of you!  xoxo

trish

For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily OJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman


‘Confessions of an Aroused Woman ~ Chapter 6′ Is on Amazon’s Kindle!


Click to go to Amazon.

I am so excited to announce that my first foray into writing erotica is now available via Amazon’s Kindle!

I have published an excerpt, Confessions of an Aroused Woman – Chapter 6, from my upcoming book of erotica.  Confessions of an Aroused Woman is comprised of experiences based on my personal journal into being a fully orgasmic woman. For those of you who have known me a while or followed my blog posts, you’ll know that this is a new-ish area for me (thanks to religious oppression and a bad marriage).  But I’m SO glad to be here! :)

This excerpt, Chapter 6, is only available on Kindle for right now, and it is free for Amazon Prime Members.  So Prime Members, feel free to “check it out” of the Kindle library.

I hope to have the audiobook of Chapter 6 available by the end of June.  So stay tuned for more info on that!

I’m actually very excited!  All of my writing has to do with human rights of one kind or another — especially women’s rights and women’s right to equality in being sexual (which is natural and normal!!!).  But all my previous writing has been for the stage as a musical, opera, or play.  This is my first time being “published.”

And it’s a bit of an experiment with Amazon, so please let me know how it works.  And PLEASE leave a review Confessions of an Aroused Woman – Chapter 6 — but only if you LIKE it.  :D

YAY!!!

trish

For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily OJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman


DailyOJ 05-21-12: The Clit Also Rises


I woke up feeling energized. Not energized like I wanted to jump out of bed and bike 10 miles (like I would ever feel like that! :) ), but I did have to get up to meet the school bus.

However, I laid in bed and felt my genital/pelvic bowl area from the inside — mentally feeling the area, like a genital meditation. I felt heat and throbbing, but more of it — more expansive. And I felt fullness. I didn’t feel “empty” vaginally.

I couldn’t resist feeling with my hand what was going on down there, and I was amazed.  Combining the stimulation technique of OM with my previous energy work of KSMO, Tantra, and Kundalini has turned out to be the best orgasm combo ever.

Aside from being fully wet (thanks extra water and fish oil!), my clit was fully aroused like I’ve never experienced before. The clitoris, so very similar to the male penis, has a length of several inches inside the female, with extending parts, nerve endings, and vascular system. When unaroused, the clitoral head and the first part of the shaft hang down. But when aroused, the clit is erect.

I’ve never felt my clit so erect — ever, especially with no stimulation. Usually, once stimulated to this point and near orgasm, the clitoral head actually sinks back into the body — another sign of impending orgasm — when the clit is practically flush to the pubic bone. When erect, I can feel the shaft of my clit between my fingers — but just barely there. This morning, however, she was firmer than I’d ever felt her — higher, too. A true erection (though she couldn’t have been more than a 1/4″ high, if that). She felt… huge… and growing… I had the fleeting thought, “Is this what it’s like to have an erection?!” But she felt amazing — inside and out.

But with alarms going off for the impending hectic morning craziness, I couldn’t pursue anything… Instead, I spent the day writing yet another breast article.

That night, I felt that energy again, the humming/buzzing energy throughout my body. I had several full-body O’s via the lightest nipple stimulation — barely touching my breasts with my fingertips. Weird, but cool. With tomorrow being the last day of school, I decided to let it be… for now… I would have time to explore these awakenings later.

Aroused and erect,

trish

For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman


DailyOJ 05-20-12: Stealth Clit & Nipple Orgasms


In getting ready for bed, I knew that I was too tired to do much but was still feeling a bit of a buzz from my heartgasm and O’s on Friday.  I did some barely-there stealth fingering with my fingertip — maybe 4 or 5, and I orgasmed a full-body, kundalini orgasm.  I kept caressing my clit very lightly and kept orgasming.

I was shocked (!!!) when the orgasm hit so soon.  It was kind of like… “Okay, now what?”…. Well, I didn’t have to wait.

Now that I was in that energy, the O’s kept coming with little stim needed on my nipples alone.  I had not done much with my breasts since experiencing painful nipple sensitivity for a couple weeks.  Thankfully, that had passed.

I did a few more orgasms via the barely-there, stealth clit stim and felt amazing.  These O’s aren’t explosive heat like the usual clit O’s, and I don’t experience any noticeable explosions in my head like true kundalini orgasms.  But what I feel throughout my body is a sudden wave of whoosh!, a full-on release of energy in all directions simultaneously, but I also notice the energy racing up my arching spine, and even into my throat area.  It’s as if the energy expands through me — a Big Bang rush, rather than “runs” out, the way other orgasms can taper off.

It is nothing short of incredible, and it’s happening more frequently…. All in all, loverly.

Aroused and O-ing,

trish

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Sex with Uncircumcised Men


With the issue of anti-circumcision rearing its “head,” I thought I’d petition comments from readers who would like to discuss the topic of uncut sex — sex with men who are not circumcised.

What does it feel like? Is slow sex better? Is deep penetration or shallow better? What are the pros and cons, the experiences from the man’s perspective? From his partner’s?

Mainly, I want to create an opportunity for mothers- and fathers-to-be to get a glimpse of why they should allow their sons to be left intact. Circumcision is permanent body modification, and this choice belongs to the male whose body would be affected. His parents are the stewards for his basic human right to be left whole.

There are rules for participating in the discussion!

Commenters can be:

  • Men who are UNcircumcised — I would especially love to hear from you guys!
  • Women/men who have been with men who are UNcircumcised — Please share your stories!
  • Circumcised men or their partners who have questions or comments regarding circumcision.
  • Readers who are supportive of the anti-circumcision movement and even potential legislation to ban circumcision.

Comments should be:

  • Respectful, NOT snarky toward men with circumcised penises — after all their right to choose what was done to their body was violated. It’s not THEIR fault they are cut.
  • From readers who have specific questions or info about the UNcircumcised penis, including hygiene, personal feelings/experiences, bullying, sexual info during arousal, penetration, orgasm, and after sex; oral, hand play, and anal sex; any info regarding the foreskin, lubrication, erections, ejaculation, sensations, etc.

Keep the conversation clean and respectful. And yes, every comment has to be approved by me first, so don’t waste my time being pro-circ, rude, snarky, or a jerk (or jerkette).

Check back often to read what others write, or sign up for the RSS Comments feed (on the right-hand side –>).

Now, chat away!

trish

For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman


“Aroused Woman” is Changing the World


Or so it seems… :)

Today was a great day for getting the word out about women’s rights and women’s sexuality (and I didn’t even have to write about my hours of orgasms this morning to instigate it! HA!). Below are just a few of the tweets and comments from AW readers & my Tweet peeps in the past 24 hours.

From the Twitterverse, where you can find me @TrishCausey:

Maria a.k.a. @BarrelOfOranges, an anti-circumcision intactivist and super awesome won’t-take-shit kinda woman (must be Irish :)…) wrote:

“Activists changing the world…” and included me the group.

I cannot tell you how awesome that makes me feel. As activists, we don’t always see the fruits of our labor on a daily basis — we can work for years just to change one law. But this was wonderful. Thank you, Maria!

I got #FF’s (Follow Friday) from some great peeps including @NatlWOW. And I’m loving the chats with @COsB52bomb, @FeminaziStud, @Caitlin2156, and the loud-mouth @TheXClass, to name a few.

One of my former voice students and fellow activists, @PerryMJones, wrote:

“I love Twitter mostly bc of the controversy @TrishCausey knows how to stir! Keep it up, girl! :) #arousedwoman

… bestowing upon AW our first hashtag: #arousedwoman. Awesome! Let’s use it up and wear it out!!!

After I tweeted: “I lose 3+ followers w/ every breast/clit post I write. But gained a few w/ anti-circ,” my vagina-rights’ buddy @HumanChoices wrote me:

“I’m not sure what the hell is wrong with those fickle tweeters, but SOMETHING certainly is. You rock! :-)”

Jerry, a.k.a., @JBucknoff, who first told me about Lauren Odes being fired for being too busty, wrote me today:

“Saw the new post. This was mostly in the local (NY City) news so it came to my attention. Now ABC news & you R making it global.”

Thank you, my lovely tweeps!

And an AW reader emailed me with this today:

“… just putting into practice some basic principles I gathered from reading about the way men think women enjoy sex and the way they actually enjoy it, my girlfriend said “Who are you?” after making love to her one day. That made me feel great because I knew I succeeded in treating her just how she wanted to be treated and in the way I hope to always treat her from now on.”

YES! YES!! HELL FUCKING YES!!! 

That is what we want to see and hear!!!  We LOVE men!  We don’t hate men!!  And this kind of gentle metamorphosis in perspective and approaching sex/making love is EXACTLY why I started this!  OMG! I could orgasm right now …. wait… I think I did. :P

I’ve also been toying with the idea of having an online forum so that we can all learn from each other. Here’s a demo with some faux posts in the Main Forum — it doesn’t look all spiffy right now. But I’ve used this system on another site, and it’s an incredible learning tool as well as for sharing info about our fave topics, such as women’s rights, women’s bodies, and women’s sexuality… and the extended rights issues such as ending male circumcision, changing the soci-cultural perception of body image, promoting women-friendly erotica, etc. I can’t afford the Forum right now, so if anyone wants to donate some pennies, use the PayPal button to the right. Would be greatly appreciated!

All in all, a FABULOUS day!

May the Vagina be with you!

trish

For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman


OpEd: ‘Male Circumcision Is No Biggie’


Having been an activist for one “bleeding heart” liberal Human Rights issue or another since I was 13, I’ve learned that people who don’t jive with Human Rights fall into one of two categories:

1 – those who are completely unaware of an issue so their apathy is due to ignorance…

and…

2 – those who are aware of the issues but have been drinking the Kool-aid too long to see the rights violations right in front of them…

Or in this case, in their pants.

Last night on Facebook, I updated my status with this:

“My thoughts on FGM & Male Circumcision: Any body modification not fully consented to by the person on whom it is being done is straight up EVIL & being perpetrated by ASSHOLES.”

After yet another exhibition of my Irish gift of being blunt, an interesting discussion followed by friends who, of course, feel similarly. I went on to say:

“Any change to the body is the basic human right of THAT PERSON to make a change to the body. Especially when this isn’t a life-threatening situation. Circumcision in 1st world countries is done out of habit more than educated knowledge that it is a religious act — and since many white Americans proudly claim to be Christian, why the hell do they do this to their babies? (Though I think brainwashing a child in any one religion is also heinous, but that’s another convo.)… Many people do not realize that baby boys die from male circumcision, just as some girls die from FGM. Female Genital Mutilation is the definition of barbaric & misogynist.

“P.S. I refused to cut my daughter’s hair until SHE was ready to have her hair cut. Most people see the hair as dead, but it isn’t — not from a spiritual perspective (and no, I’m not Indian)… I gave [her] her first haircut on her 5th birthday, and her ears were pierced 5 years later. Her body. Her choices.”

One enlightened friend wrote about male circumcision:

“It’s traumatic to babies, it’s dangerous, and so unnecessary. The argument “so he’ll look like his father” makes me want to fight! If Dad was missing a finger, would we chop one of baby’s fingers off too? And then there’s the rampant sexual dysfunction caused by corneated glanses that guys have to beat the crap out of in order to get off.”

Then there was one comment that left me with my jaw hanging open as disgust and dismay ran through my bloodstream.

One commenter wrote:

“FGM is a sin (if you are a believer in such) and a crime against nature, but male circumcision is no biggie. It actually has proponents in the medical field who make good arguments for it.”

While I love it when people agree with me, the only time I can truly create change is when I’ve reached someone whose ideology is different (read: narrow-minded and uneducated). So my response is thus:

  1. No, I don’t believe in sin. “Sin” is a carefully crafted construct of religious propaganda to steer the masses into doing its bidding, which usually entails keeping the rich, white guys wealthy and in control. (Where have I heard that before?)
  2. Circumcision IS a “biggie” to the innocent baby on whom this violation is being perpetrated.
  3. The so-called medical proponents must be operating under the delusion of religious brainwashing, socio-cultural conditioning, or being highly compensated to keep spouting these “medically necessary” lies regarding male circumcision.

Circumcision as we know it is a practice of the Abrahamic religions, namely Judaism and its spin-offs Christianity and Islam. As with many aspects of the Jewish faith, Judaism was heavily influenced by the religious practices and ideologies of Ancient Egypt, which is known to have practiced circumcision on adult men who chose to be circumcised as part of their initiation into the priests’ order.

Because of the spread of these religions outside their indigenous Middle Eastern origins, the brutal practice of shearing the foreskin off a newborn’s penis has gone global. However, not every country under these religious delusions practices male circumcision.

The proponents for male circumcision offer little medical evidence that it is actually “necessary.” Also, I would rather trust the body’s inherent intelligence that it has a foreskin because it serves a purpose — to the boy who will become a man. Granted, I don’t know why we still have an appendix, but I do know why my clitoris has a hood — the same reason the male version of the clit, the glans penis, also has a hood.

Proponents for male circumcision also offer the ridiculous argument that boys want to “look like their father.” Was the father circumcised later in his life when he was old enough to make an educated, informed decision based on his personal preference to have the foreskin removed? Likely not. The father was probably circumcised as an infant as well, without his consent.

Those who say circumcision prevents AIDS and HIV transmission are also not getting the whole picture. Plenty of circumcised men in America have HIV or AIDS. The lack of foreskin didn’t prevent the spread of the sexually transmitted disease. Here’s an article from the University of Oxford regarding medical studies supposedly supporting male circumcision.

Essentially, the issue of male circumcision is one of basic Human Rights, that a person has the basic right to choose what happens to her or his body. No one should be allowed to make such a permanent change to a person’s body without their consent.

Informed consent is crucial because of the medical and sexual ramifications, including permanent physical damage to the penis, the urethra, as well as the psychological repercussions as the child grows up.

What if the government passed a law that all baby boys must have their pinky amputated? Or their left ear? Or their nose? Would you willingly submit your newborn child to this just because the government said to? I doubt it. But parents willingly subject their baby boy to having a part of his anatomy amputated just because of a tradition from a Middle Eastern religion and/or American cultural conditioning?

I absolutely think there should be legislation prohibiting circumcision since there are fanatics who will keep enacting this barbarity on baby boys UNLESS legislation bans circumcision. If someone cut a slice out of my daughter, that act is punishable by law with prison time because it is aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a minor. But circumcision is okay?!  NO!

Others would say that banning circumcision violates the parents’ First Amendment freedom of religion. Then what about the baby’s fundamental First Amendment right to Freedom FROM his parents’ religion — to remain a whole human being?

But I’m a female. What would I know about wanting to preserve a person’s right to choose what happens to their body?

Here are some facts from the wonderful website, IntactAmerica:

  • Risks include infection, hemorrhage, scarring, difficulty urinating, loss of part or all of the penis, and even death.
  • The amount of skin removed in a typical infant circumcision is the equivalent of 15 square inches in an adult male.
  • No professional medical association in the U.S. or anywhere else in the world recommends routine circumcision as medically necessary.
  • Most medically advanced nations do not practice child circumcision. Three quarters of the world’s men are intact.
  • The foreskin is actually an important and functional body part, protecting the head of the penis from injury and providing moisture and lubrication. Circumcision also diminishes sexual pleasure later in life.
  • Claims that circumcision prevents HIV have repeatedly been proven to be exaggerated or false.
  • Whatever the rationale, forced removal of healthy genital tissue from any child – male or female – is unethical. Boys have the same right as girls to an intact body, and to be spared this inhumane, unnecessary surgery.  (Okay, I threw this one in because of its comparison to Female Genital Mutilation.)

Source: IntactAmerica.org, “The Facts Behind Circumcision”

I can only surmise that the men who are pro-circumcision are circumcised themselves (and the women who are pro-circ  have only been with circumcised partners), and the thought of a “different”-looking penis is too weird for them to accept what is natural. Or the circumcised men feel jealous that they might be missing out on sexual pleasure, so they want all men to miss out on sexual pleasure, perpetuating this basic Human Rights violation on these innocent children.

No one can undo the past, so if you’re a man who is circumcised, please don’t feel jealous. Sexual pleasure is an energy, and incredible sexual pleasure can be learned without the need for genital stimulation at all.

Just as women need to speak out for women’s rights, men need to speak out against male circumcision. The voice being heard has to come from the gender being violated. But know, we women are here to support you in ending this heinous practice of non-consensual circumcision just as we know you guys are here to support us in our fight to keep control over our bodies.

Male circumcision IS a “biggie.” Circumcision is a Human Rights violation that scars the male in more ways than just physically. If need be, let’s get Congress to enact legislation to prohibit male circumcision. It is the individual male’s right to choose what happens to his body.

trish


NEWS: Woman Fired From Job for Having Large Breasts


In a case of “how stupid can some religious fanatics be” (yes, that is a rhetorical question), a New Jersey woman has filed charges with the Equal Opportunity Employment Commission saying she was fired from a lingerie business because she was too “busty”.

I recently wrote two articles on just this sort of misogyny and cultural brainwashing: “Me, My Breasts, and I” and “American’s Love/Hate Relationship with Breasts, Part 1″. So if anyone thought I was making stuff up about how women are systematically abused and mistreated due to their cup size, here’s a “life imitating art imitating life” Kodak moment.

New Jersey resident Lauren Odes claims she was fired a few days after starting a desk job at Native Intimates, a 5th Avenue Manhattan lingerie distributor, because of her full-figure. At a press conference, Odes presented her three outfits with which her Orthodox Jewish employers took umbrage.Two of the outfits were on hangers, while she was wearing the third one (see image above).

At the press conference, Odes said this:

“When I first started working there, I asked what the dress code was, and I was just told to look around and see what everyone else was wearing. So I did. The dress was very casual athletic wear to business attire. When my supervisors suggested that I tape down my breasts, I asked ‘Are you kidding me?’ The supervisor said, ‘Just cover up a little more.'”

Odes was then made to wear a red robe that the manager personally put on her person. Odes took a picture of herself in the robe (see poster in picture above).

“She told me to sit at my desk and wear it all day. I felt completely humiliated. She put the bathrobe on me and tied the belt, and I returned to my desk wearing it.”

Odes was then told to go out and buy a sweater, but while shopping for something to suit her misogynist employer, Odes received a phone call informing her she was fired.

Not being stupid, Odes recorded the phone call, then got the best of the best on the case, renown feminist lawyer Gloria Allred, who stood beside Odes at the press conference Monday. Odes had this to say:

“I do not feel any employer has the right to impose their religious beliefs on me when I’m working in a business that is not a synagogue, but instead selling thongs with hearts placed in the female genital area and boy shorts for women saying ‘HOT’ in the buttocks’ area.”

Any thoughts on this sort of patriarchal religious and cultural harassment in the #WarOnWomen here in the 21st century? Or do you think the leftist media is making too much out of it?  Any comments, peeps?

trish


OpEd: America’s Love/Hate Relationship with Breasts


To say American men are enamored of breasts is an understatement.

The “red-blooded-ness” of the American male’s manhood is quantified by the degree to which he holds breasts in esteem and wants to hold them in his hands… and his mouth… and slide his erection between them.  As one former beau put it, “There’s a whole world of breasts out there, and I can’t die till I’ve seen every pair of them.”

Over the last 40 years, breasts have not only become a national obsession, they’ve become big business spurring the porn and plastic surgery industries to gigantic proportions — a different kind of #WarOnWomen.  One might think that porn invented breasts — or even the proliferation of showing breasts, but ancient art and fertility sites clearly indicate the female form has been revered for millennia.

The breast is a gland.  Anatomically, female breasts are almost identical to the male breast, though we are unaccustomed to referring to the male’s pectoral/nipple area as a “breast.”  The underlying structure of the breast is the pectoral muscle, over which the mammary glands and ducts and fat tissue protrude from the body in post-pubescent females and some men.  Men can get breast cancer, and some men even lactate and have breastfed their babies.  Men who have excess breast tissue may have a hormonal condition known as gynecomastia, treatment of which is usually surgical male breast reduction.

Our perception of breasts — what they should look like, how they should move, what they should feel like, has changed drastically with the mainstreaming of porn and the life-altering rise of the internet.  With sex readily available on any device capable of an internet or wi-fi connection, fake breasts and staged sex are literally at your fingertips 24/7.  But what has all this accessibility done to the breast?  To women’s bodies?  To our body image and self-esteem?  Do men even know what real breasts look like anymore?

Real breasts come in many shapes, sizes, and colors.  Though the exact look and feel of the breasts varies with the woman, for the most part women’s breasts are oval shaped (not spherical), with the majority of the breast tissue being at or below the nipple/areola complex, and the nipples angled slightly outward, away from each other.  In larger breasts, the areola may be oval-shaped as well.  Because real breasts function at the demand of the law of gravity, they move — sometimes down, sometimes to the sides toward the armpits, or away from each other all together.  Real breasts move.

(Photos from Dian Hanson’s book Big Book of Breasts)

Thanks to porn and plastic surgery, the placement and the size of implants has created a distorted view of women’s breasts. At times, it seems as if even the doctors don’t know what breasts are supposed to look like!

With results that can appear as if basketballs were surgically implanted, fake breasts can look completely unnatural: spherical instead of oval, the areolas too small in proportion to the size of the breast, the nipples pointing straight out — or worse, upwards.

Implants are inserted at the areola line, inframammary line, or under the armpit, cutting through the nerve-rich tissue and leaving some implantees with little to no sensation in the nipples.  Permanently.  Considering the nipples are wired directly to the clitoris, why would a woman sacrifice a lifetime of orgasms for money she might earn in porn or stripping — or worse, because she feels inadequate with her body because of the pressure to have huge, high, perfect breasts?

With fake breasts, the implant is placed under the pectoral muscle. Essentially, the implant is held up by the chest wall muscles, rendering the breast an almost motionless appendage.  (How are real breasts supposed to compete with this?!)

I’d like to say I don’t have a problem with implants, but yes, I really do have a problem with implants when the woman is getting them because she feels inferior due to media and socio-cultural conditioning.  But I recognize this is my problem, and a woman’s body is hers to do with as she chooses.  I certainly have no problem with implants for women who are reconstructing their breast(s) post-breast cancer or are evening out a condition in which one breast is underdeveloped.  But these are not the majority of women seeking breast augmentation.

Having worked for a plastic surgeon, I heard many women say that they wanted the implants to give them the look of a push-up bra without having to wear a bra.  Many implantees get their breasts done with a “pushed up” curvature in the center.  Presto!  Permanent cleavage.

The proliferation of the push-up bra phenomenon is a direct result of the breast-obsessed culture.  While you can argue that the pushed up nature of brassieres harkens back to the days of corsets, the reality is that for most of the corset’s history, the job of the corset (or “pair of bodies” as it was originally called) was to shape the torso into the desired look of the time, not push the breasts up and in.

The pushing up and in of the breasts is actually the complete opposite of what is natural for the breasts and for innate biological signs of sexual maturity. The dropping of the breast tissue is the last phase of puberty for the breasts, and this may not fully happen until the woman is 21 years old.  When plastic surgeons are taking measurements for a patient’s breast reduction, they gauge the new nipple line at the inframammary fold, where the underside of the breast meets the torso.  So if cosmetic surgeons can get this right with breast reduction, why do they purposely get it so very wrong for breast augmentation?

The hypersexualization of women’s breasts has surpassed the porn and skin mags industry, with the cups of commerce spilling over into stripping, lingerie, comic books, video games, mainstream film, mass market paperback books, and even kids’ cartoons and national beauty pageants.

This doesn’t begin to cover the topic of how breasts naturally change throughout a women’s life.  Breasts change constantly through a woman’s monthly cycle.  You could say that once puberty starts, the breasts never stop changing!

Add in to this ever-evolving metamorphosis the life cycles of pregnancy, breastfeeding, post-partum hormone craziness, weight gain, weight loss, menopause, and just getting older.  The life of real breasts is tough physically, emotionally, and psychologically.

Could there be a shortage of real breasts in the next few decades?  While scientists are looking for a cure for the common cold and AIDS, are they already working on a DNA breast augmentation injection so that future generations of girls won’t have to suffer the indignity of not measuring up to society’s demands for unnaturally shaped breasts?

I certainly hope not!

So then why do men buy porn?  And skin mags?  And go see strippers?  I know men are viscerally oriented and generally lack imagination when it comes to getting off, but this is ridiculous.

And why the hell do men think women want lingerie as a gift?!  All of these industries are run by men for men with women not being considered in the equation at all — except to feel like something is wrong if they’re a size A cup instead of FFF or their breasts hang naturally instead of defying the laws of gravity.

Why are men so desirous of seeing breasts bigger and bigger and in completely unnatural formations and perfectly, unnaturally symmetrical?  How would men feel if they were expected to have their sensitive parts pushed up and in when these parts are supposed to be down, free, and maybe slightly uneven?

Whether temporary pushing up of the breasts via a bra or permanent cleavage due to manipulated implants, society not only accepts but expects this violation against women’s biology.  In fact, when women’s breasts do not meet the porn/skin mag fake implant standard, the real, living, breathing, feeling, natural, un-airbrushed women are made to feel as if something is wrong with them — that their bodies are somehow misshapen or ugly if their breasts do not match society’s porn-induced standard.

Breasts come in many different sizes, shapes, and colors.  Before passing judgment on a woman’s body that will make her feel less than human, think of other females you know — your sister or your daughter, even your mother.  Would you want someone else to make them feel less than worthy as a human being just because of the way their body is naturally?

Then don’t pass the socio-cultural brainwashing on by passing judgment on your girlfriend or wife.  And stop supporting the very industries that propagate the brainwashing.  Stop buying porn and skin mags and comic books.  Start buying erotica directed by women and starring natural women.  Buy books about women written by women, or subscribe to sites that feature natural women being naturally sexy.

Better yet, get off the computer and go hug your woman.

trish

For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman


DailyOJ 05-18-12, Part 2: Double-Dipping, Echoes, & Out-of-Body Heartgasms


* Read Part 1 here. *

So my body was buzzing from the early morning’s activities, and I did my duties for work (theatre writing) and continued plotting my domination of the world via Musical Theatre.  My 12:30 p.m. alarm announced it was time for KSMO practice, and after a few snoozes o’ the alarm, off I went to hit the shower before hitting the bed to enjoy my second helping of orgasmic bliss.

I did my 20-minue KSMO practice, trying to do the single caressing (epic fail, I like constant caressing — go figure!), and still trying to get the vocalization just right.  While having sex (solo or partnered) is not recommended on KSMO practice days, I was just horny.  And the morning’s session had left me wanting the vaginal O part of a blended orgasm.

To stimulate my prostate, I started with the glass wand.  I have had some amazing developments with the prostate stimulation.  Though the clit is known for producing sudden, heated, fireworks, the She Spot (G-Spot) is known to be a slow-burner of arousal — deceptively slow, incredibly deep, full, filling arousal.  For me, the vaginal stimulation now brings this full-body, core arousal much more quickly than it used to.  (So ladies, if you’ve never done prostate stimulation because you’ve heard it takes a long time to get aroused, give it a try on a regular basis.  Your body will probably “calibrate” to this stimulation and start getting aroused more quickly with steady practice!)

Some of the 18 distinct parts of the Clitoris.

With my prostate warmed up, I started the simultaneous clit stim.  Since starting KSMO, I can use a lot less stimulation on my clit.  I may start off with circles, but I usually end up doing long strokes from just above the clitoral hood down to the outer labia.  Nowadays, I’ll often start with some OM clit fingering, and that really gets those clitoral nerves humming. And frankly, my clit was sore from this morning.

I switched to my penisy vibrator (sans vibration) so I could rock out my A-Spot.  Because I’m already extremely aroused, the fullness of the vibrator hits all the “spots” and “zones” in the vagina. And I shudder, a full-body shudder.  (Actually, I think it’s an orgasm, a full-body O as the vibe goes in, but  that’s just my perception of it.)

Public service announcement: Guys, THIS is why you should spend 15 to 30 minutes on “foreplay”!  Once aroused, there isn’t a spot in the vagina that isn’t ready to orgasm with a little extra love.  Doing this will help bring up the horrible statistics that about 70% of women NEVER orgasm during penetrative sex!!!

During the journey to orgasm, I noticed I kept stopping all stimulation.  I have no idea why.  I didn’t plan on this or consciously decide to stop.  It just sort of happened.  My body seemed to know what it wanted and how it wanted it.  I would stop both hands momentarily just to feel the effects of the stimulation.  For some reason, I kept doing this — both hands stimulating, pausing to feel, stimulating  pausing, feeling… over and over and over.  Each time, I moaned,a little higher pitched than usual — I even had the observationist critique of “Gee, I sound cheezy!”  But I didn’t care.  This letting the body take over was new for me, and it was delicious!  Each time while pausing, I could feel sensations bubbling up and expanding not into orgasm (at the moment) but brewing something bigger, thicker, deeper.

The orgasms were incredible, and I had the thought at that moment, that I would hate to see what I looked like during this frantic madness.  No orgies for me!  :P

Normally, the post-orgasm emotion begins 5 to 10 seconds after the orgasms, and even then, the emotion/tears begin softly, quickly building in intensity to full-out crying, then fading. Usually afterward, I wind up laughing at myself because I feel kind of ridiculous over the whole thing.  (Jung might say I’m in ego, but after letting loose, moaning, howling, and crying, I think getting back in ego might be a good thing so I can get on with my day!)

Today, the emotion hit instantly.  In fact, I was barely through the last orgasm when the crying erupted from me, forcibly bringing up emotions from my core.  I know uterine orgasms are emotional, but this was raw and primal.  I felt emotionally pummeled.  I have no idea where it came from.  I can only surmise that the catharsis of writing my breasts article and the subsequent good response touched me or knocked loose something that needed to be — could only be — released through deep, full-body, full-emotion, body/spirit integrated orgasm.

Now, I usually am so relaxed or so exhausted by this point that I doze off into a light sleep.  I’ll doze about 15 minutes, roll over, and doze another 15 minutes.  I’ll then lay there to feel what’s going on in my body — usually, echoes are still going on.  For me, I define echoes as the after-orgasms — possibly a series of orgasms in their own right — that are contractions of the genitals and lower core: vagina, anus, cervix dipping down, clit throbbing, blood pulsating through the inner and outer labia, even my lower abdominals, and definitely my glutes still clenching, etc.  I’ve noticed my hips will continue to rock well after the orgasm spectacular is over.  These echoes/contractions go on for a half hour to an hour.

Today, I fell asleep almost immediately.  I think I was emotionally as well as physically exhausted from the session.  Not to mention the 90-minute session I’d had earlier that morning.  (And people wonder why I won’t work out at a gym?!)  But this was no light snooze.  This was a hard sleep.  In fact, I slept for over an hour.  When I woke up, I looked at the clock and would have jumped out of bed if I’d had the energy.  Which was another strange feeling — normally I feel energized and buzzy at this point.  But not today.  I was tired.  And I had a weird feeling in my chest wall.

I first experienced heartgasms last Fall.  Sometimes, people feel heartgasms as sudden happiness that makes them clutch their hands to their heart, or they feel as if an orgasm has just happened IN the heart area.  My heartgasms were/are similar.  Mostly, I feel a sudden buzzing in my chest wall/rib cage, as if my inner/astral me is trying to burst out of my physical body and go back to the spirit plane.  (If you’re not into astral stuff and don’t know what I’m talking about, I’ll have to explain this in another post.)

What I felt today was a strong tug-of-war between my body and my inner/astral me that was trying to escape, to return to the spirit plane, or at least the Land of Orgasm.  If I were a 60 year-old man, a smoker, or ate fried foods, I might think I was having a heart attack.  Glad it was just an orgasm! :P

This tug-of-war happening at my chest wall/rib cage went on for hours.  It was less intense once I had to go back to pretending I’d worked all day long and did other responsible stuff.  :D  But the sensations were still there.  And in my genitals, I stil had the feeling of the bubbling up, expanding, full, hot, pulsating, buzz, and echoes.

I don’t like this in-between feeling.  I want to definitely be somewhere — definitely here or definitely there.  Though I guess if I’m definitely there, I’d be dead.  Another insight into why the French term for orgasm is “la petite mort” — the little death.  And maybe why we keep returning to arousal and orgasm to experience the Other Side if only briefly.

C’est la vie.

Aroused and somewhere,

trish

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DailyOJ 05-18-12, Part 1: OM Clit-Only Stim & the Problem of Mixing Techniques


For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been waking up at 5 a.m.-ish.  My first alarm goes off at the butt-crack of dawn — 6:40 — each morning to begin the ritual of getting my daughter on the school bus.  So waking up before the ass-scratch on the butt-crack of dawn is much earlier than I want or need to wake up.

This morning was no different… Awake… 5:15 a.m… Ugh… Horny… Awesome!

Knowing I had an hour-and-a-half to play was an invitation I couldn’t refuse.  But what to do?  With ears close by, I couldn’t do a usual two-handed session because it’s much too noisy for the neighbors.  I decided to go for a clit quickie… or so I thought.

I began with my breasts, of course, bringing on my cervical O’s, then went for clit-only stim.  I tried a blend of OM technique with regular circle and stroking stimulation.  I must admit that I knew instantly that mixing the two vastly different approaches wouldn’t work, and yet, like a moron drawn to the flame, I did try both.  And it ended up with this “quickie” taking up almost that entire 90 minute window.  GRRRRRRRRR…..

The OM seems to work on the autonomic system because the sensations that arise from the specific OM clitoral stimulation are not the same as the sensations brought on by “regular” friggin’ off.  In fact, using OM — and just OM technique — is the only time(s) I’ve ever experienced full-body orgasm(s) via clit-only stim.  Usually, clit-only stimulation induces a localized genitals-only orgasm.  Not nearly as much fun as full-body O’s.

Mixing the two techniques seemed to completely confuse my clit, like she didn’t know which way to go, or what to do or respond to.  I almost felt sorry for her.  With 8,000 nerve endings in the clitoris, I think that changing techniques gets the wires crossed.  It’s as if 4,000 nerve endings were responding in a particular way, so that changing the fingering technique abruptly stops stimulating those nerves and suddenly zones in on the other 4,000 who were on coffee break. Very disruptive to the arousal process and very frustrating for the woman attached to the clit!

No, this isn’t Trish. :P

What was even more frustrating is that I already know this!

The biggest mistake most men make when stimulating a woman is that they do some stimulation, and if she really likes it (evident by audible moans, changes in breathing, grabs his hair in her fists, etc.), the guy thinks, “Hey, she likes that, let me show her what else I can do!”  NOOOOOO!!!

If you get a woman moaning, panting, and grabbing the sheets, the last thing you should do is change anything!  Guys, I know this goes against the competition-loving testosterone flowing in your veins, the adrenaline flooding your brain, and the phony porn scenarios playing out in your memory, but TRUST ME — DON’T CHANGE ANYTHING!  Not the speed, the pressure, the direction, NOTHING!

This may be boring for you, but for her, she will be forever thankful… as if watching a woman in orgasm could ever be boring! :D

The feelings during arousal were mixed between the rising energy of the OM technique and the expanding but localized heat in the genital area of the regular clit circles and strokes.  Changing from OM to regular, I could instantly feel the rising energy plummet, hit the genitals, then switching back to OM again, feel the rise.  It’s not that this was unpleasant.  It was weird.  I was horny and just really wanted a big orgasm.

I should have stuck with the OM technique and trusted it to take me where I wanted to go.  I know it works!  And yet…. GRRRRRRRR!

I’d finished my period — okay, technically, I was still spotting.  This was another reason I wasn’t using a dildo; the cervix was probably still tender.  And each morning this week, I’d awakened around 5 a.m., horny, but unable to pursue a delicious She Spot/prostate orgasm or a blended O because my vagina was otherwise occupied.  Instead, with minimal breast stim, I would have my cervical O’s.  Just thinking about sex brought on spontaneous, spine-arching, leg-raising full-body orgasms.  But I really wanted a hands-on orgasm.  And dammit, I screwed it up by mixing techniques — loving the energy of OM, but just wanting to be done so I slipped into the trap of resorting to ye olde friggin’ off stimulation.  This back-and-forth pattern was doomed, and I knew it!  But I did it anyway.  GRRRRRRRR!

Long (90 minute) story short, the eventual orgasms were localized to my lady’s loins, but I felt “creaks” of weird energy through my torso up to my chest wall.  That must be the craziest term every applied to an orgasm — “creak” — but that’s what it reminded me of, when opening a door with rusty hinges or walking up an old staircase and the sound or reverberations aren’t “solid” or “full” but are kind of hit and miss in rapid succession, but rising…  Okay, I give up trying to describe it.

And while I thought this was weird, it was nothing compared to what happened later that afternoon.

* Read Part 2 here. *

Aroused and creaking,

trish

For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman


Me, My Breasts, and I


Copyright 2012 by Trish Causey.

I always hated my breasts.

For most of my life that was all I was good for. Having breasts. And thick hair. Breasts and hair.  That was me in a nutshell.  Nevermind that I was intelligent, talented in the performing and literary arts, a Girl Scout, an honor student, an activist, a nice person.  None of that mattered.  I had thick, red hair and large, lust-inducing breasts.

I woke up one morning at the age of 10, and POOF! There they were.  Size C practically overnight.  I went from being the wallflower nerd in 5th grade to getting weird looks from the boys who glanced at me from lowered eyelids but no longer talked to me.

At age 11, my ballet teacher measured me for my recital costume and announced (in front of my class much to my horror) that my measurements were 37-26-37.  She then had the nerve to tell me if I gained an inch in my waist, I’d have perfect measurements.  I’d just started my period and was about to get braces.  Having perfect measurements was nowhere on my radar.  And neither were boyfriends.

I was 13, working backstage at an international ballet competition, when a German photographer wanted to take “pictures” of me.  At age 15, I had my first experience with being mauled by a guy — a fellow cast member of a show, who was my ride home after a rehearsal.  With no other way to get home, I felt like I had to let him do what he wanted so he wouldn’t leave me there at the deserted library at 10 o’clock at night.  (This was well before cell phones were commonplace).  Luckily my leotard didn’t have snaps at the crotch.

While working on a local show, I was standing backstage when one of the actors, whose face was covered in heavy character make-up, paused as he was pacing before going on.  He stopped in front of me, looked at my breasts, and said, “If I didn’t have all this make-up on, I’d put my face in there and- He shook his head vigorously back and forth.  I had no idea what to say to that.  He was married with kids.  I was 16.

I graduated high school a D-cup and quickly moved into a DD.

While volunteering with a ballet company at age 18, the ballet master of a troupe visiting from Russia, cornered me in the Green Room after everyone had left.  Before I knew what was happening, he’d maneuvered both of my arms behind me and held my wrists in one of his hands while the other went to my blouse, untucking it from my skirt.  He grabbed my breasts and squeezed roughly.  His knee was between my legs which were trapped in a pencil skirt.  The more I fought, the stronger he became.  My only recourse when he kissed me was to bite his tongue as hard as I could.  He backed off immediately, blood pouring from his mouth.  I tucked in my shirt and told him he was never to do that again.  Even in this situation, my Southern upbringing would not allow me to be rude.

At 20, I traveled with a theatre company to South Korea for an international theatre competition.  I was friendly with the troupe from Tblisi, in the Republic of Georgia.  Just friends.  Nothing happened.  It was brought to my attention on the plane ride home that almost everyone in the competition — people from 16 countries — thought I’d fucked the entire acting company from Tblisi… and some of the Germans and a French guy.

Swell.

At 21, working the ballet competition again, I was more fully aware of my seeming powers over men, and I was ready to be slightly more proactive.  An Adonis of a male dancer from Cuba lusted after me, but his partner didn’t make it to Round 2, so I couldn’t take that opportunity to the next step.  A ballet master from Spain wanted me.  One night while making out with him, he, of course, went for my breasts first.  The intensity of the situation was too much, and while he wiped off his fogged up glasses, I made an excuse about needing to do something and left.

I didn’t understand what the big fuss was about.  When I was 9, my molestor used to admire the beginnings of my breasts, and she was greatly thrilled when they came in at age 10.  This coupled with all the other events made me leery of sex.  I was still a virgin at 21 until I was raped.  The guy repeatedly ran his fingernails up and down my breasts, commenting that he’d dreamt of the day he’d get his hands on them.  I knew him and we were in my bedroom, and at the time, the concept of date-rape was still new and not considered “real” rape.  I bled for four days, but I still felt his nails on my skin.

I was so embarrassed that I was still a virgin at 21, I did not report the rape for fear the policemen would laugh at me.  Or worse. It was too much to fathom sitting in a courtroom having to explain why I had never had sex, when everyone around me thought I was a slut.

For years, everyone thought I was a “loose girl” because I had large breasts.  Everyone just assumed I was a “certain way” because my Irish anatomy was genetically predisposed to being full-figured.  Finally, I’d been penetrated.  At least now, I wouldn’t have to pretend a reaction when people smirked in my direction.  The look of shame was real.

My breasts were never pin-up fabulous — not high or perky or uber firm — but they were large.  At theatre orgies, when I was 22 to 24, my breasts were all the rage.  And I was proud of them — but only because I knew they gave me power over men.  One guy wanted time with them, so I laid back on the bed, purring, until he said — out loud where everyone heard, “They went to the sides.”  I responded, “Yes, that’s what they do.”  He replied, “Nevermind. They’re just sacks of skin.”  I was humiliated.  He was used to breasts that didn’t move, defied gravity, and were perfect(ly fake).  As large as mine were, my breasts didn’t measure up.

Aged 25 and working as a leasing consultant at an apartment property, I’d forgotten the cardinal rule of being big-busted — never wear form-fitting sweaters.  Sure enough, as I sat there, one of the paint contractors walks in — I’d never seen him before.  He took one look at me, and exclaimed, “Damn, but don’t you put Dolly Parton to shame!”

Lovely.  From a complete stranger, no less.

I hated my breasts, and I wanted them gone.  I thoroughly researched breast reduction.  I watched every nerd channel show on plastic surgery, scrutinizing the process and the results.  I even worked for a plastic surgeon and felt I could practically do a breast redux consult and procedure myself by that point.

Frequently, I would have to ask my husband to massage my back to help release the knots.  These massages were never spa- or romance-novel-worthy.  They were painful — horribly-hot, sharp, stabbing, searing pain, painful.

From the nape of my neck to my bottom ribs, from one shoulder across to the other, my back was one, huge knotted mass of contracted muscle and pinched nerves, for years.  Constant back pain affected how I walked and how I slept — when I could sleep.  Permanent red grooves still scar my shoulders from their weight.

External and environmental projections of cultural myths and stereotypes compelled self-loathing within me I never would have imagined possible.  Having large breasts made my body acceptable for repeated sexual abuse, and society assumed I “wanted” it or “deserved” it just because of the way my body developed.

In 2004, I thought my marriage might work out after all. Things had looked up for a while, and I had surprised myself thinking that I might actually grow to love him again.  I was in the kitchen, and remarked, quite off the cuff, that I’d decided to go ahead and have the breast reduction surgery.  He shook his head, getting angry, and actually pouted.

After inquiring what was wrong, he said, “If you go through with it, I’ll never be able to make love to you again.  I would take one look at those hideous purple scars and be too disgusted to be aroused.”  That cut me to my soul.  And it solidified for me that he’d never truly loved me.  No man ever had or would.  I was nothing but breasts and hair to men.

I’ve had a child, whom I breastfed.  I purposely gained weight so my husband wouldn’t want me, which wrecked my thyroid.  Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and the subsequent PTSD didn’t help.  In 2010, I escaped my hellhole marriage and began a path of reclaiming my dreams and my identity.

Last fall, a friend suggested I try sensual massage as part of my orgasm awakening regimen.  I thought it was hokey, but I tried it anyway.  At the same time, I read Tantric Orgasm for Women, that included a breast meditation, which I also thought was hokey.  But I tried it anyway.

The sensual self-massage put me in touch with my body in a gentle, caressing way that I’d not thought possible.  I realized then that I had never been touched gently.  Ever.  By anyone.  Tingles rippled up and down my body.  Energy zinged up my spine, across my scalp, and tickled my face.

The breast meditation involved gently holding my breasts from the outside while mentally entering my breasts from the inside.  From my center.  From my heart.  This was the first time I experienced my breasts in relationship to my body and how they come from me.  Since I was 9, the attention my breasts received has been from the external world passing judgment, men (and females) groping, clawing, and lusting after them, while society applied the scarlet letter of shame.

My breasts had been the victim, not my enemy.  For the first time, I experienced my breasts as a part of me, and I cried uncontrollably.  Holding my breasts, I wanted to apologize for ever hating them and sending the negativity to them.

I’m now a single mom, 43 pounds lighter, and infinitely happier.  I’m a few months away from turning 40.

While laying in bed one night, I noticed a woman on my laptop’s screen.  I thought, “Wow, those breasts look good.”  I then realized the screen was dark due to the screen saver, and the breasts I saw were mine.  I looked good laying down — with my breasts to the sides as real breasts are wont to do.

It was at that moment that I knew without a doubt that I will never have breast reduction.  After years of wanting them gone, I cannot imagine having them cut now.  Knowing that the surgeon will cut every nerve around the nipple-areola complex which is wired directly to the clitoris and remove a huge triangle of nerve-rich skin from the underside of the breast, simply hurts my heart — not to mention what it might do to my orgasms.  After making peace with my breasts and experiencing such wonderful sensations and orgasms directly because of them, I can’t fathom not having them exactly as they are.

My breasts will never grace a magazine’s centerfold, and they’d never withstand the scrutiny of men accustomed to ogling implants and the perfect breasts of 20-somethings in skin mags or porn.  I’ll never look good bra-less, and swimsuits will always be my arch-nemesis.  I can live with that.  And however society chooses to judge my old, not-perfect breasts is society’s waste of time and energy.  I have other things to do than worry about what other people think — which I can’t control anyway.

My breasts will never be perfect.  But they will always be mine.  And I love my breasts.

trish

For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman


DailyOJ 05-16-12: Crying & Emotional Orgasms


My last session — on Monday — was amazing, and I wrote about it here.

After the final big orgasm, as the contractions pulsated in my vagina, cervix, and anus, I burst into tears which made me deliriously happy (inside).  This emotion was centered in the heart chakra.  I felt the wall of my chest vibrating — a heartgasm?, and my hands flew up to my heart and over my eyes.  The crying was guttural and from my core.  It felt like I was finally back on my journey’s path.

This may not sound like a good thing, but I was relieved by the emotional expression that occurred.  The past few weeks, my orgasms had been unemotional — with little to no crying afterward.  I have begun to equate my vocal volume during and my emotional crying afterward with the intensity and number of orgasms.  The louder and boo-hooey-er, the bigger and better.  The lack of emotional response seemed to be synonymous with the lack of true arousal I’d been feeling.

This then brought up other emotional issues…  I realized that I almost dread having sex with a partner again… the more emotional I am means the awesomer my orgasms were.  Men are scared of emotion.  So this is actually beginning to feel like a deal-breaker.  I can’t go back to unemotional sex.  Women who like casual sex — more power to them.  I’ve recently discovered I just don’t want it.  I would need to hide my emotions for a “just fucking” encounter, and that would hurt too much.

I know this separates me from the majority of feminists out there who think that being an empowered female means fucking anything that’s longer than it is wide and being able to walk away unaffected by the encounter.  I never was that way inside, though I did have the occasional orgy one-night stand.  (Another reason to love the theatre :D ).  And I’m a humanist, not a feminist — if “feminist” is defined as thinking women should automatically be placed ahead of men just because we’re female — that’s reverse discrimination FOR the vagina, which is no better than discrimination AGAINST the vagina.

Recognizing that I… need… as well as want  the emotional component of sexual experience must mean I’m getting old… or maybe more integrated with my higher self.  “Needing” anything is not easy for me.  I’ve always been and had to be independent.  Find a way or make a way.  No negotiations.  No excuses.  “Needing” puts me in a position of submissiveness.  Vulnerability.  And frankly, that freaks me out.

Not to get all woo-woo on you, but having experienced the astral plane in dreams and the cosmic orgasm from my prostate awakening, I refuse to settle for anything less.  Don’t get me wrong.  I would still enjoy a good ol’ fashioned hard fuck, as long as the underlying relationship is one of love and trust — then the hard fuck is really just a matter of mutual, wild, animal lust rearing its fabulous head amidst a spirit-connected sexual and sensual experience… but I can cry afterward, knowing I’m safe, that I felt safe to give myself so fully to the experience in the first place… and for me, crying is a good thing.

Aroused and blubbering,

trish

For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman


DailyOJ 05-15-12: Nipple Sensitivity & Energy in My Legs


In the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to get back into the KSMO thing. After the debacle (with a couple of morons) on the forum, I didn’t do anything KSMO for 2 months.  In the interim, I finally tried Om-ing and was shocked by the fabulous results I had with it as well as went a couple rounds with my new glass prostate wand and have loved playing with that ever since.

Oddly enough, I began to experience painful sensitivity in my nipples. Not the whole breasts, just the nipples.  This was horribly sad because I have begun to rely on nipple stim as the appetizer that leads to the entree of arousal and delectable orgasmic desert(s) later on.  Also, since beginning a regular-ish practice of sensual massage, I’ve found my hands on my breasts almost constantly whenever I’m naked.  (That may seem weird, but since I spent most of my life hating my breasts, I’m actually just getting to know them.)

Nipple stimulation leads to a cervical, Kundalini orgasm in 10 to 30 seconds.  If I continue the nipple and breast stimulation (as I’m wont to do), I can even get aroused enough to experience what author Diana Richardson calls the “YES!” of vaginal arousal, where the vaginal opening (the clitoral cuff of the PC muscles) opens and a finger or toy slides right in — no wiggling past the fleshy opening necessary to enter.  The first time I felt my vagina open like that, it was as if my vulva was sighing a sweet, “Ahhhhh….”  It felt amazing.  Since then, I can sense when my vagina is open like that, waiting to be entered by… something.  In fact, I’ve found myself awakening in the middle of the night from a sexual-infused dream and without touching my shaved vulva, I can tell I’m fully opened and in “YES!” mode.

With little notice, my nipples became painfully sensitive a few weeks ago.  Even the air flow from the ceiling fan was painful.  This made me pay attention to the rest of the breast (which, admittedly, is overlooked by men as well).  I can only surmise that the pain was related to my hormonal cycles — it began a week after my period, through ovulation (think I caught the egg this month!), and a week after.  This past week has been miraculously back to normal in sensation.  However, the cervical O’s only came back in the last day or two, and they’re not as strong — but I did notice that the intensity is building back.  Will have to work on those. :)

As for the energy in my legs, I don’t have much to report other than I’ve noticed weird pulsating, energy zaps down the backs of my legs recently.  It feels like contractions (but not like a leg cramp).  It’s as if it’s building energy, starting in my lower glutes/upper hamstrings and down to my calves.  Strong sensations but not unpleasant.

I had full-body O’s during this last session with lots of energy in my legs — which is great because my legs are strong and tend to be very active during the last phase of arousal (shaking profusely) and during orgasms themselves (kicking out, pulling up, kicking out again, etc.).  I can even feel my prostate coming back to life, which had also gone dormant in recent months.

As for regular orgasms, I’ve had my orgasms in the past few weeks, but they hadn’t been as satisfying as I’ve become accustomed since last Fall.  I don’t know if this is related to the nipple pain or not. The breasts are indeed the gateway to orgasm (for me, anyway), so that may have been the cause for (what I consider) the lackluster orgasms — they were localized to the genitals, and even when they extended upward, they weren’t full-body… more … one-hit of orgasm, but not even an explosion.  (Yes, this was with blended O stim.)

On the brighter side, I woke up from some sensual dream at 3:45 a.m. today, and unable to sleep, I laid in bed as I do with my legs spread open and massaged my breasts and labia.  It was fabulous.  I can’t count the number of cervical O’s I had with the breast stimulation, and even had a couple of energy zings from minor OM clit stimulation.

Will have to see where all this leads next… Being on my period, I won’t be able to play inside until Saturday or Sunday… well, I could, but man, I hate the “Clean up, aisle 12″ scenario.  Guess it’s just me and my breasts till then!

trish

For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman


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