Outside my bedroom window, I could hear the trees branches hitting the roof, the rain pelting everything, and the wind blowing. I opened my eyes to see if we had power – we did, and I promptly snuggled down under my sheet. The steady rhythm of stormy weather and a cold, air-conditioned room combine to make a recipe that sends me off into a sensuous half-sleep, drifting over to the Other Side, but still anchored here.
After getting up and checking out the apartment and the balcony, everything looked fine. Well, for a hurricane, that is. My outdoor plants are in the middle of my livingroom, my kitchen counters are covered in water bottles and prep supplies. Thankfully, we didn’t need them. We were safe and dry. So I could go back to bed.
In bed, my mind noted the irony that this was the 7th anniversary of Katrina and the 2nd anniversary of my moving out and becoming a single mom. Moving out was, in effect, the beginning of my journey to reclaiming my identity and my sexuality. Hard to believe it had been 2 years already.
Since I wasn’t alone in the house, and my neighbors had hunkered down for the storm as well, I didn’t even attempt having orgasms… at first… some just happened — I didn’t mean to… The room was cold. Sue me.
With the rain outside and my ceiling fan spinning above me, I lay in bed with the sheet off my breasts and legs, just covering my vulva area, to keep her warm and juicy. I absentmindedly started some sensual massage, and my nipples perked right up. The areolas puckered so tight I had to rub on them, and off I went into my SASO’s. When my nipples calmed down, I did a little OM-touch on my clit, and was off again. This went on back and forth for over an hour, having SASO’s, taking a break for a few minutes then starting again.
In between sets, I checked my vaginal opening for juices. Sure enough, yep, there were juices after each set, which, for me, verifies that these are in fact productive orgasms. Not that anyone would challenge me on this point, but these O’s are so very different from regular stimulated orgasms — amazingly fulfilling, full-body orgasms, but different.
I was very wet, and I couldn’t help but spread the love all over my inner labia and clit, then a little bit further to my outer labia. My juices were warm and slick, viscous, and smelled wonderful. Enjoying the feeling of my labia, I gently massaged them with my right hand; my left hand was up behind my head from the last set of O’s. Before I knew it, I was off again! Having orgasms from stroking the inside of my right inner labia!! I have never done this nor have I ever anticipated orgasms from such a seemingly innocuous area. I kept stroking gently and rolling the lip edge with my fingertips throughout the O’s, until my hand had to go up over my head as well…. Dammit.
A little later, I tried stimulating the U-Spot to help trigger an orgasm there, but I wasn’t feeling it… so I thought…
With the juices flowing and my vagina in YES! mode, I had to slip a couple fingers in. I smiled because I love the vastly different temperatures between the cold room, my hot skin, and my warm wet vagina. She truly is awesome. I stroked my prostate, but just to notice the textures, not to lead anywhere. My right hand came out as my left hand slipped in. I know it’s serious when my left hand wants in. I would more than likely be very busy for the next 10 minutes or so. And sure enough, with minds of their own, my hands conjured a delicious, complex blended orgasm or series of orgasms that seemed to last longer than they usually do. My mind has become so observationist on what is happening in my body, I try to notice every nuance that is happening both inside my vagina — the vaginal walls, the juices, my moving She Spot, the texture of my prostate, the clenching of the inner clitoral bulb, as well as with my outer clit as she begins to hide so close to orgasm.
This blended orgasm was truly wonderful — so much so, I actually made noise, which I don’t normally do with hands-on O’s. I tend to associate noise-making with the penetrative thrust action and A-Spot reach of my toy. I kept the orgasms going as long as my hands could function, but even they needed to heed the call of the Great Orgasm God/dess and fly up over my head as my back arched and my legs kicked — also something I don’t normally do with hands-on O’s… the Kundalini responses are usually the realm of the SASO’s. Hmmmm… makes me wonder what’s going on… and why am I not doing hands-on blended O’s anymore? These are awesome. Will definitely pencil them in my next session.
Then the unexpected happened. I felt this welling up of emotion, like I was about to cry. I was just at the verge of actually crying, felt the tears, the sudden intake of breath, but I was so shocked by the need to cry that I think I stifled it unintentionally. I lay there for a minute. I felt the need to cry again, but I was so aware of it, the crying melted away.
I began to focus on my body and the after-O’s happening in my genitals. My hips were still moving, my legs were beginning to calm down, and I was thoroughly sated. Better yet, I was happy. And the room was cold. My nipples were getting tight again, and all I could think was that it was a great start to another year as a free, whole orgasmic woman.
Aroused and happy,
So far, so good here on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. With Hurricane Isaac expected to hit in just a few hours, we are hunkered down. That it will hit on the 7th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina is something that I’ll process later.
I was out riding on my bike in the squalls since I don’t have a surfboard and can’t ride the waves. :P And I’m trying to finish my theatre writing deadlines because it is the dreaded last week of the month.
Power has been out twice, but it’s on for now (obviously). I’m in Jackson County, so while we are on the worst side (the northeastern quadrant), I think we’re out of harm’s way with the hurricane itself. The National Hurricane Center is predicting 14 to 20 inches of rain in the next 2 days for us though. And that’s where we might see some damage to power and water lines as trees are uprooted due to ground over-saturation.
The one thing I’m not looking forward to — aside from eating pre-prepared food, no electricity, no running water, and no computer (!!!), I’m not looking forward to the eery quiet once the power goes out. We really have no idea how loud human civilization is until Mother Nature forces you to be completely unplugged. No phones, computer fans, air conditioner hum, the fridge, the icemaker, the dishwasher, the streetlight buzz, engines, motors, weedwackers — the bells, whistles, dings, and zings of everyday life — just absolute quiet.
As the full-on part of the storm starts, the wind whistles. The animals stopped making sounds hours before. As the eyewall approaches, it sounds like a hundred trains going over your head. It’s quiet again when you’re in the eye of the storm, then more trains as the back side of the hurricane goes over. The rains stay for as long as the storm stays organized over water and even over land. There will be lightning and tornadoes. Then all is quiet again. The quiet is strange at first, then you realize it’s you resetting to the natural energy around you. After a while you get used to that and really know what it means to be connected to earth energy — after being so affected by water and wind energies. Then the electricity comes back on. :) Makes you wonder which is the real “power”……. And y’all thought a little ol’ Fire Spirit like me couldn’t play nice with the other energies? Tsk… tsk…
And no, FedEx did not bring my phone. And I’m kinda annoyed I can’t get any footage of Isaac.
In other news, I rescued a baby squirrel who fell 25 feet out of a pecan tree this morning. So my daughter and I are feeding him and taking care him until I can find him a new home. His name, for now, is “Chipmunk.”
Copyright 2012 by Trish Causey. All Rights Reserved.
It’s been said that every woman fakes orgasms at some point. Well, I’m here to tell you I never did. Never. I never had an orgasm during partnered sex, and I sure wasn’t going to fake it. I made sure the guy knew I wasn’t seeing god, or cosmic rainbows, or magickal unicorns just because his penis was inside me. He could deal with his ego later.
Recently, I read a particular, highly recommended book on cunnilingus but had a difficult time finishing it. The anatomic information was mostly good, but the male writer’s anecdotes about female orgasm were peppered with sexist, rude, even misogynist remarks I simply could not overlook. Having admitted that he was bad at sex and suffered with erectile issues, the author made the egregious comment that screamers and women who throw their heads back are “obvious” orgasm fakers.
I wanted to throw the book across the room, but unfortunately, I was at a restaurant. (Yes, I read sex books while eating… lunch.)
Women are complex creatures and are, thusly, capable of complex, varied types of orgasms. It only makes sense that the body and the face would have different corresponding reactions. Yes, I said body. Were you only watching her face?
For a traditional clitoral orgasm, the orgasm is localized to the clit/genital area. The woman’s torso will most likely crunch forward. The hips/pelvis will tuck or raise up off the bed. Her face will similarly be “crunched” into a look she wouldn’t really want to make otherwise: furrowed brow, gritting the teeth, even jutting the jaw forward. (I could go into my theory on why this is but I would have to bore you with vocal science and the pedagogy of phonation.)
A vaginal/She Spot orgasm tends to be a full-body wave type of orgasm that washes over the body but lacks the explosion of the clitoral orgasm. The woman’s mouth will be open, the jaw down and back, and she may moan differently because of it. Her head may tilt backward, and she may even arch her back. Please note the vagina has numerous spots capable of various kinds of pleasure and responses.
A blended orgasm that stems from both clitoral and vaginal/She Spot simulation is one of the most sought after orgasms because of its full-body wave effect coupled with the clit explosion. This orgasm can induce both crunching forward and wild hip motions, plus arching backward, head back, and delicious moaning.
Other types of orgasms include nipple O’s, cervical O’s, orgasms of the P-spot, the K-spot, the perineal sponge, urethral/urination orgasms, anal O’s, and anywhere else on the body that she is super sensitive to touch.
Of all the physically-based orgasms, the most intense, for me, personally, is the uterine orgasm. The uterine orgasm is brought on by stimulation of the cervix and A-Spot, coincidentally stimulating the prostate/She Spot at the same time. This results in a compulsory doubling over and emotional outburst — a true gut-wrenching thrashing usually accompanied by uncontrollable crying. Not pretty crying either. So the face of this orgasm is kind of like a nervous breakdown — a bit unnerving for onlookers but soul-shatteringly amazing to experience.
These signs are for physically-based orgasms that most people can do without much effort. Use plenty of lube, work the spots, communicate — not very difficult. However, energy-based orgasms cause the body to twist and contort in ways unimaginable.
Kundalini orgasms are known for inducing a sharp, sudden, involuntary arching of the back, in both women and men. While some men consider arching the back to be a “woman’s” type of orgasm, I like to think of this phenomenon as a “human being’s” orgasmic response. For Kundalini orgasms, the mouth may be wide open, deep moans being heard, while the head is bent so far back, you might think the woman is going into a gymnast’s backbend. All of this is involuntary. (And pretty frickin’ incredible!)
So what is the face of a woman who is having real orgasms? Not something she’d want posted in the church’s Sunday bulletin, that’s for sure. If the woman can, in any way, be considered to look “pretty,” she’s not having a real orgasm.
If she is crunching forward and her face looks as if she is somewhere between “really pissed off” and “warrior queen about to rip your limbs from your body,” then she’s probably having a real orgasm. If her head is back, her mouth open, and her brow slightly to fully furrowed, that’s a great sign of a real orgasm as well. When her arms fly up over her head, don’t be offended! This doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to hold on to you. Especially if her hands wind up behind her head, this is a great sign of a deep, powerful orgasm. (If you’ve read my DailyOJ, you know I can vouch for this effect.)
Her eyes may be open during clitoral orgasms, but for most other types of orgasms, her eyes will probably be closed. For myself, I’ve noticed my eyes shoot open at the onset of blended orgasms but then immediately close again through the rest of the climax/multiple orgasms. For Kundalini orgasms, my eyes are closed, head is all the way back, hands fly up over my head, and my body rocks-and-rolls side to side while my knees come up, then my legs kick out over and over again. (Just sayin’.)
You decide: Which one is faking and which one is real?
Along with the facial contortions or the gaping jaw and arching back, her skin will become flush due to increased blood flow, her nipples may be so perky they’re reaching for the ceiling, and her hips (hell, most of her body) will be moving involuntarily. For energy orgasms, she will probably be rockin’-and-rollin’ side to side with extra contractions and rolling through her abdominals, not just crunching forward or arching backward as during physical orgasms.
If she can speak in complete sentences, or is constantly reassuring your ego, she might be faking for your benefit. If her words are incoherent and grabbing at you is her only primal form of communication, then you might be on the right track — to helping her orgasm.
More importantly, don’t be so visual. This isn’t porn. This is a real, live woman. You need to feel her reactions. When a woman is close to orgasm, especially if any clitoral stimulation has been done, the clitoral bulbs that form a “horseshoe” over and around the vaginal opening expand with blood flow, just as the penis expands with blood flow during arousal. This feels like a vice-grip clamping down on your penis.
(Side note: My asshole ex-husband used to tell me he didn’t like the vice-grip feeling because it made him start to lose his erection… so that’s probably why I never orgasmed with him.)
Remember, guys. You cannot “make” a woman orgasm. Orgasm begins and ends in the woman’s mind — not just her brain. Stimulate her mind first and the body will follow suit. In fact, the face and body will tell you everything if your sexual relationship is rooted in honest communication.
What does your face look like in orgasm? Send me a picture, and I just might post it!
I know most of my readers check out my blog for sex tips, so I won’t drag this out. It is a sad reality, though, that the uncomfortable topic of rape doesn’t come up often enough in our culture’s national dialogue. If it did, maybe there would be less rape in the world.
This Twitter drama was more than I ever wanted or needed in terms of having to defend myself from being blamed for my rape and/or being made the villain because I didn’t report it. When the verbal assault happened over Twitter, I felt like I’d been blunt-kicked in the heart. I felt that creepy, dizzy feeling radiating outward from my ribcage, and I started shaking. I just breathed through it and decided to get angry instead of allowing any PTSD take over. The anger allowed me to channel my feelings into writing, which is proactive and productive. See! Being Irish comes in handy!
I want to genuinely thank all of you who sent me words of love and support, and I appreciate the sentiment of those who offered to help do that Twitter jerk bodily harm. Unfortunately, the Law of Karma prevents me from accepting your generous offer.
Remember, however, for every rape that is reported, many, many more go unreported thanks to the insensitivity of our misogynist culture that wants to blame the victim.
I am a survivor. Thank you, all! MUAH!
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With all the hullabaloo over stupid men being … well… stupid… (*see this post and this post… and well, maybe this post, too*). I am thankfully reminded that not all penised persons are cads and misogynists.
After a long day battling for vagina rights on the Twitterwebz, an ArousedWoman reader sent me a lovely comment about his own orgasmic awakening thanks to reading some of my posts — my “Allowing and Receiving” post, specifically.
I’m not taking credit for his orgasm success (okay, well, I’d love to!), but really it’s about him shedding some of the patriarchal bullshit and cultural stereotypes of sex and orgasm. Divesting himself of aiming for a pre-determined goal has opened up his body and his mind to new realizations in arousal and the orgasmic response(s).
Okay, so I’m totally interjecting my perspective on his experience, but here is what he first wrote in about experiencing a soulgasm(!!!), and below is what he said today.
I love ending the night on a good note.
While having a thought-provoking chat with a friend on Twitter, I got a bit of a shock out of nowhere. I’m not shocked easily. I wish I could say I’m not hurt easily, but even after all the crap I’ve been through in my life, my annoying humanity is still intact.
With the ridiculous comment from Rep. Todd Akin about “legitimate rape,” all of Twitter was a-buzz with chatter on the subject of rape. Interestingly, the topic which had started out being on abortion had shifted dramatically to rape, and not surprisingly, society once again placing the blame and the shame of rape on the women — the rape victim.
Out of nowhere, this jerk, “Dan,” buts into the civil convo I was having with my friend @sevenlayercake — though we differ in viewpoints, she and I can have amiable conversations. Whenever a Twitter interloper butts in, I check their bio. This guy was supposedly an “outspoken gay professional.” As a loudmouth Scotch-Irisher and theatre pro, I can certainly handle this guy.
I posted the link to my recent article on my rape — something I have never, ever, ever, EVER told the details of to anyone alive or dead on this earth until I wrote this article on it a few days ago. Why? For the very reason, I didn’t think anyone would believe me. And this jackwad says, “You want to milk your rape for sympathy.”
If this guy is “gay,” then he is the most fervently women-hatin’ gay man I’ve ever met. Gay men usually dig women, just not sexually. Being in the theatre, it’s not unusual for a gay man to ask me how I do my lipstick or to borrow my blouse.
So, below, is the conversation and yet another example of how the War on Women exists — and is apparently spreading to the gay men demographic, which I find to be very sad.
In my head, I hear the lyrics to Gloria Gaynor’s anthem:
First, I was afraid, I was petrified…
I will survive
As long as I know how to love,
I know I’ll stay alive
I’ve got all my life to live,
I’ve got all my love to give
And I’ll survive,
I will survive.
It took all the strength I had not to fall apart
Kept trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken heart
I spent, oh, so many nights just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry but now I hold my head up high.
I will survive.
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Just when you think the Grand Ol’ Party can’t sink any lower in its blatant misogyny of women, women’s rights, and their outlook on women’s bodies, Rep. Todd Akin reveals a whole new abyss of as yet unexplored hatred of the female sex.
It wasn’t long ago that men were the only ones on the House panel on birth control, that 31 Senators voted against the Violence Against Women Act, and the GOP in Michigan censored a female state representative, violating her First Amendment right to free speech. Now, the GOP creeps us out further.
In a TV interview, Rep. Todd Akin (R-Mo.) had this to say about his views on abortion, even if conception is due to rape:
“From what I understand from doctors, that’s really rare. If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down. But let’s assume maybe that didn’t work or something. I think there should be some punishment, but the punishment ought to be on the rapist.”
So Akin is now a medical expert as well as a judge-and-jury on “Legitimate Rape?” So all of us who have been raped now need to measure our own horrible experience with sexual abuse by his and the GOP’s standard? A standard which has no medical basis? Because, according to Akin, every woman who has ever said she got pregnant from being raped was lying?!
The GOP RWNJ Republicans rape women on a daily basis! Oh, wait that’s “Legislative Rape” as they are systematically removing laws and undoing decades of work women have literally fought and died for in the battle for equality. And that kind of rape of women, our rights, and our bodies is just hunky-dorey.
This is a blatant sign of the ensuing institutionalized brainwashing against women that we can expect if the GOP continues to buy its power via elections in the United States.
What’s worse than our rape experiences being de-valued by the patriarchal, misogynist GOP is that this makes men look bad as well. The men who love women and support women’s rights will be lumped into either the GOP misogynist corner or the corner of “all men” who are abusers.
By the way, Akin’s thoughts on the morning-after pill are pretty clear as well:
“[T]he morning-after pill is a form of abortion, and I think we just shouldn’t have abortion in this country.”
Maybe we should not have misogyny in this country?! The elections this year are paramount to blocking the GOP’s persistent #WarOnWomen!
Agree? Disagree? Leave a comment below!
Continuing on with my desire for a Bohemian, hippy, free love lifestyle, doing Tantric yoga with an earthly male god, chanting mantras, and generally taming this Kundalini energy that has become so… unwound…
Diane, a gynecologist, commented on my lament of my current weight, and she gently beeyotch-slapped me back to reality and away from the evil that is media enculturation. I’ve already written about my personal history due to my breasts’ size, my rape, and America’s obsession with breasts along with the hypersexualization of women’s bodies.
This self-hate is not normal. Hating other women is not normal. I think this competition we feel and act out is due in large part to the male machine of media, culture, and religion, all of which vilify the female form in one way or another.
Thanks, Diane, for the reality check!
May the Vagina be with you all!!!
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After a morning spent enlightening the GOP teabaggers on how ridiculous they are (nicely, of course), I once again had the yearning to run away from all this election craziness — this time coupled with an insane desire to join a nudist colony… just to be free of all the status symbols society deems important or even crucial to life.
I commiserated that I haven’t lost enough weight to be naked in front of others in public and was promptly reminded that we women cannot self-sabotage ourselves by heeding the KoolAid of media and culture’s negativity.
So onward I go, through this catharsis that has me by my she-balls.
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Every now and then I do post my political opinions — sometimes, my vagina and my clit need a break from all the hippy, free-(self)-love I give them. So I made an innocent little comment about capitalism, the middle class, and the GOP. Out of nowhere, some GOP teabagger makes a rude (and stupid) comment, to which I responded… several times.
So far, no response. And once again, you will see why I really just want to get this 2012 Election process over with. My body needs a break from the negative energy this campaign is producing… Talk about “pollution”!
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Spending time pondering the meaning of it all, I returned to a little activity I like to do to think positively about the future. I open up my drawing program and finesse the design of my ultimate dream home.
Today, I did a complete re-design… actually, I designed the little cottage I’ve always wanted to have in addition to the big house that would be more for entertaining. Except now I’m not wanting the big house as much — just the cottage.
What was my thought process? See below.
As the negativity on Twitter has compelled me to lay low on the social networking site, I did pop in to update my tweeps on AW’s growing stats and readership (<– shameless plug!). And of course, I like to chat with my like-minded free-thinkers.
Without waxing too poetic, I’m finding the negativity of politics too much to tolerate. I don’t watch “the news” and I don’t even have a TV (gave it away). But 2012 is an important year in women’s rights as well as for the country as a whole. As much as I want to live in my hippy free-love Utopia, I know that is not a real possibility… for now… For now, we must be vigilant and ensure the GOP doesn’t win the White House. VOTE, PEOPLE!
Anyhoo, had this chat with a friend, and it brought a smile to my face. So Twitter isn’t evil all the time.
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So there I was minding my own business gabbing away on Twitter, just posting the countries showing on my stats’ page. I like to tweet where my readers are from because it does my heart proud to know that not just horny Americans are ogling my wares.
Today included readers from India, Taiwan, and Saudi Arabia. Taiwan is a new reader for ArousedWoman, but Saudi Arabia has been a frequent reader to the blog. With all the tension over whether or not Saudi women would be allowed to participate in the Summer Olympics, I’m thrilled to have Saudi Arabian readers!
One of my tweeps then tweeted me and made the following comments about women in Saudi Arabia reading my blog. Of course, I don’t know if it’s actually Saudi women reading — how awesome would it be for loving Saudi men to be reading all this, also?!
Days like this are great reminders of why I do this blog.
Waking up Saturday morning, I was in severe pain. Pain I had not felt in a while. Sunday morning brought the same, if not worse, pain in my back and neck. How bad was it, you ask? Let’s just say that Saturday and Sunday mornings were the first time in over a year I didn’t start my day by touching my breasts or my genitals. Yeah. That bad.
So not being alone at home, I did not do KSMO or Sparkles. With the pain I was feeling, I didn’t think my back could take the sudden back arches of O’s brought on by OM touch or nipple stimulation. But the weekend was not entirely uneventful. I had known I would not be doing KSMO over the weekend, so I had allowed for these two days to be “see what happens” days, the days in between KSMO sessions when the new energy patterns that were triggered in the session start to make their appearance — hence the reason Jack recommends not KSMO-ing on consecutive days.
Throughout the day, both Saturday and Sunday, I felt familiar zings of energy up my legs every now and then while working at my desk. Because it was localized to my legs, I wouldn’t call it a full deskgasm. And yet, because I know what these energies are, what they feel like, and I have an idea what they will lead to, I am very excited by their activity even though they seem small. When first experiencing these energies, it can be difficult to notice them for what they are or to appreciate them for what they actually mean. This is an encore sojourn through KSMO for me, so I recognize the signals. I’m not worried or wondering if I’m doing it right or feeling disappointed that they weren’t bigger, bolder, or more obvious.
In the shower Saturday night, doing my nightly finger check, my prostate gave another slight “hello.” After a few pulses, I checked the fluid, and again, it smelled sweet but was very thick. I had already made the mental note to drink more water that day, so I was hoping I’d see some improvement by Sunday. However, I had inadvertently eaten an Asian dish with MSG (monosodium glutamate) and was having swelling in my legs and ankles. I drank extra water to help flush it out of my system. Also, I should note, I am making sure to take my fish oil every day as well as chocolate.
Sunday had similar energy swooshes up the leg and a scalpgasm — maybe two. I even had a full-body wave-gasm — the energy starts in my feet, zooms up my left leg, around my torso, up my back, and curves around my head into a scalpgasm and ends at tickling my face, followed by a full-body shudder, a zing in the genitals, and goosebumps on my arms. Oh, and this was at my desk, so this qualifies as a deskgasm (to me).
But what really got my heart racing in a great big “We’re on our way!” thrill was the urination orgasm I had Sunday afternoon. The prostate wraps around the urethra in the female as it does in the male. Rubbing the female prostate during sex, a woman can suddenly have that feeling of needing to go to the bathroom. But if she knows her bladder is empty, she shouldn’t tense up but rather push out and get to know and enjoy(!) those full-body ripples of pleasure that can occur from prostate play. This same effect can be achieved while urinating — if the prostate is aroused or full of fluid, the rush of urine through the urethra — which stimulates the prostate — can trigger delicious O’s… or… U’s.
Sunday night, in the shower, I let the hot water hit my back for a while to help relax whatever muscles in my back or neck were still so tense. It was 1:30 a.m. I should have been in bed hours before since it was a school night, but I just didn’t want to sleep. My body was tired, but my brain was wide awake. Standing there, I massaged my hips through my glutes since I’d been having some recurring sciatica pain in recent weeks. I couldn’t help but brush a finger along the upper part of my butt cleavage, which months before, I had accidentally discovered to be a very sensitive erogenous zone. Moving my middle finger lower, I hit the K-spot, which is at the tip of the coccyx bone just above the anus. I got zapped with an energy wave straight up my spine to my scalp. So, yeah… I kept doing that for a couple minutes.
On the whole, this is all very encouraging. Starting back with KSMO on Wednesday, I was very happy with the progress I was already experiencing as of Sunday night. With the re-awakening of my prostate and my K-spot, the energy flowing again, the deskgasm and full-body-gasm, I am very optimistic in terms of my orgasmic development. I had a teary moment (furball) that came up Sunday afternoon — another impromptu pity party of my general inadequacy in life, career, and love. So I’m soul-searching into that. Again, I think I know what it is. I’ll write more on that when I have more information to share. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels similarly.
Aroused and zinging,
Similarly to the past two days — 08-08-12 and 08-09-12, I laid in bed over an hour, started KSMO when I was ready and that was about it. I looked at the clock when I started the 20-minute session, didn’t even set my stopwatch to time it. But I only did a few rounds of the breathing and Key Sound, and I knew I was ready to be done, so I stopped. I looked at the clock. It was only 4 minutes later. I didn’t bother with Sparkles. I wasn’t in the mood … well, I was in the mood, but my back and neck had started hurting the night before. The pain was beginning to override any would-be pleasurable feelings. But the breathing and relaxing did start to help with the pain in my back and neck.
Having to learn how to re-incorporate KSMO back into my routine without triggering stealth orgasms had been the first challenge of the past two days. The unexpected emotional “furballs” got me thinking in another direction. But at the time, after the 4 minutes was over, I noticed tingling up my left leg, which I took as a good sign. I was physically tired and hurting, so I laid there for a while trying to breathe the pain away, but eventually had to get up.
As I got on with my day, I noticed intermittent energy zings up my left leg again. As well as the occasional scalgasm. This was very encouraging to me as it meant, yes, the energies were still there — perhaps, dormant — but definitely still there.
In the shower, I did my nightly vagina check, and as I inserted my finger, I felt a jolt. Not a sharp zap like with the clit, but a deeper, more subtle, expansion of energy, a noticeable triggering of something in my prostate. I couldn’t help myself. I pulsed a few times and felt the inklings of prostate re-awakening that I have been craving for months. I was ecstatic but careful not to do too much. Doing “more” or “harder” or “faster” won’t make the sensations suddenly appear. They have a mind and a schedule (and a wisdom) all their own. It’s annoying at times to realize that my super intelligent, crafty mind can’t make my body hurry up and do what I want and be where I want it to be when I want it to be there… kind of like losing weight… which reminds me… no more brownies….
When I looked at my fingers to check the fluid, it was so thick it was less like fluid and more like a facial cream. The smell was spot on — sweet — and seeing the copious amount of prostate “fluid” from just a few pulses was definitely encouraging. But the thickness concerned me. It meant I was dehydrated. The prostate and my ultimate goal of gushing waterfalls via female ejaculation will never happen without being properly, if not, slightly over-, hydrated.
This fact alone caused me to look at everything I’m doing in totality.
Life is complete stress right now, for several reasons, which I won’t go in to here.
My schedule changed this week from my natural night-owl schedule to the enforced schedule of getting a kid on a school bus early in the mornings.
This change in schedule also changed my eating habits, sleeping habits, exercise habits — essentially, just about everything I do, plus how and when I do it.
I have also begun lowering my caffeine intake by only drinking 24 oz. of Diet Coke per day. Last week, I had remembered that when I had my big prostate/cosmic bliss orgasm breakthrough in the Fall, I was completely off Diet Coke and thoroughly hydrated. My two beverages are water and my vice, Diet Coke. No alcohol, coffee, or tea. So anticipating the return of daily sessions, I had dropped my caffeine consumption, which may be triggering detox. I definitely felt the headaches of withdrawal, but I’m not sure I want to associate my back and neck pain to the caffeine withdrawal… yet…
As I thought on all this later, I think I understand what is happening, but only time will tell if it is what I think it is…
Aroused and being mysterious,
Feminism is a hotly-debated topic in America and other narrow-minded, backwards, patriarchal areas of the world. As a woman who is a humanist, I often have to deal with the backlash from other women who think I’m a traitor to “the cause.”
I will write a longer piece detailing my why’s and wherefore’s of being a humanist rather than a feminist, but today on Twitter, I gave a brief “nutshell version” of my reasoning. The responses in return ranged from thought-provoking to hilarious.
Below are a few of the comments that made me think and made me smile.
From OM to KSMO to my personal experiences I recount in my DailyOJ, AW is gaining more readers and more Twitter followers every single day. Readers are writing in to tell me how reading this blog has helped them, and even men have reported new kinds of orgasms because they implemented some of my advice.
Below are a few examples of how Aroused Woman is making awesome changes in people’s sex lives and relationships. And I am so very honored to be a part of it.
Rape is prevalent. Yet, there is no sane reason why it should be except that rape is a tool for instilling fear and ensuring dominance. Rape is anger, aggression, frustration, emotional impotence, a power trip, a threat. Rape is not about sex or being sexual — which is why rape happens not just with a man’s penis, but also with the barrel of a gun, the neck of a beer bottle, the handle of a broom, or other implement of terror.
In talking with survivors who have been raped, the quote that comes to mind is Nietzsche’s, “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” But why do so many women have to be brought near “death” to gain so-called strength? And why is associating sex and violence so ubiquitous in our culture? (Oh, yeah, religion.)
Worse, it makes me wonder what men’s definition of rape is. With marital rape, do men understand that they are raping their wives — not having sex? That legal marriage does not equal the right to rape? Does the drunk friend realize the alcohol was not an excuse for rape? And what about sanctimonious, judgmental women who are as much a part of the rape culture as the rapists and callous men who make rape jokes?
In sharing my rape experience and subsequent shame of reporting it, I received several messages from other women who told me of similar situations. I’ve removed their pictures and blacked out their names. These are just a few of the comments I received, but it points to a pervasive problem that still lurks on the fringes of open discussion.
As a stage artist, I trained my voice for years. I studied the sounds we make and how we make them. As a writer, and especially as a lyricist, I have toiled over the perfect words to scribe for dialogue or a song because the sound of the word itself has as much of an effect on the listener as the meaning of the word.
Just talking about rape brings strong emotions from women (and men!) who have experienced rape as a teen or an adult, or rape as a child, more commonly known by its euphemistic pseudonym, molestation.
Years ago, I realized that “rape” is a harsh word just as the act of rape is harsh. The growling of the “R”, the blunt hit of the unaspirated, hard “P” mimics the sharp, precise consonants’ onomatopoeia effect of “BruTal” and “aTTacK.” Conversely, the word “molestation” rolls of the tongue, rendering the word practically useless in conveying the horror of being raped as a child and softening the disdain society might otherwise feel. Example, decide for yourself which sounds worse: “A priest molested a boy” … or … “A priest raped a boy.”
I’ve rarely talked about my “molestation” as a kid, and I’ve almost never talked about the night I was raped. Only recently did I even tell people that I was still a virgin at age 21 — it was here on this blog, actually. For some reason, our hypersexualized culture has made it shameful to hold off on sex until a person is really ready. It’s as if teens must be sexual or they’re not normal. I was normal in many ways, but still dealing with my “molestation,” I had lots of issues I had to work out on my own when I was a teenager.
Also, my rape was not “real” rape. My rape would be sub-classified as “date-rape.”
We were in my bedroom — so clearly, I was “asking for it.” I was wearing a button down shirt and jeans. In 1994, it was fashionable to wear jeans that had rips in them. Mine did, right along the ass-line of the left leg. If a woman can show some butt cheek when she wears a swimsuit or shorts, I didn’t see the harm in a little peek-a-boo of my upper thigh at the butt line. And I was in my own home.
We were talking on the bed — but neither he nor I even mentioned having sex together. The next thing I knew I was being flipped over, my shirt ripped open, and he was inside me. I couldn’t think. The shock of pain like a thousand daggers stabbing me in my core and up my spine was something I’d never felt before. I couldn’t breathe. My brain started going into survival mode, and I felt like I was about to black out. I felt as if I were falling backward into an abyss. I couldn’t feel the bed or even him in that moment, just falling and shockingly intense pain throughout my body.
I realized I was still wearing my jeans. The button was still done, the zipper was zipped. He had entered me through the rip in my jeans. Dry mouthed, I asked him to slow down so I could adjust. All the while, I’m thinking, “How did he do that? Just breathe… How did he get inside of me with my jeans still on?” He said my tightness just made him harder, so he went faster. He said he couldn’t help himself… He pulled out, pulled me on the floor to my knees and told me to suck him off — he’d been wanting me to give him a blow job “for forever,” he said. Then he grabbed my hair and rammed my head down on his erection. I was still in shock, so my mouth must have felt like sandpaper. I was in a daze, on my knees, trying not to throw up, wearing all my clothes, trying to process what was happening. Just as quickly, it was over, and he was leaving. He was a friend. Dazed, but still true to my Southern upbringing of being polite, I walked him to his apartment a few buildings over. I walked home, but noticed I couldn’t feel the ground beneath me; my legs felt like jelly.
I stood in the center of my room, looking at the bed. I felt this whoosh of fluid. I was bleeding. I bled for 4 days. I thought about going to the police, but most of the people I knew also knew him. And if it went to trial, my “character witnesses” would all say they thought I’d been whoring for years — everyone assumed I was “loose” because I had large breasts. I feared being laughed at by the male policemen, ridiculed in court, verbally attacked by the opposing lawyer — I’ve watched enough TV to know how rape accusers are treated in court.
Yet, the hardest part — the part that actually made me not report my rape — was having to say in public that I was technically still a virgin at the old age of 21. Who would believe that? So I didn’t go to the police. Or the hospital. I just prayed I had not contracted some disease. After all, it seemed getting raped was inevitable in our society, so why should I complain? It’s not like is was a “bad rape” like being mauled in an alley by a scary boogeyman.
So then, maybe I wasn’t really raped. Maybe it was “just sex” after all…. Maybe sex with all my clothes on and without my permission is just “date-sex-I-didn’t-want-to-have-especially-since-I-was-a-virgin-but-it’s-not-really-rape.” Maybe Comedy Central comedian Daniel Tosh has a funny rape-joke commentary to make on my behalf?
People still think rape only occurs when the scary boogeyman assaults a woman in the mall parking lot at 10 p.m. Most women are raped by men (or women!) they know, particularly their spouses, family members, or neighbors. Rape is not the bullshit storyline you’ll see on Lifetime Television for Victims, just like you won’t find the secrets of orgasms in a Cosmo poll.
Because of my experience, I don’t do “blow jobs” — I do oral sex on my terms. I tell a man ahead of time not to grab my hair or he’s getting a fist in his balls. I also don’t get on my knees for any man or any god. More importantly, I don’t blame all men or hate the penis for what was done to me by one man.
As the mother of a daughter, the one thing that guided me in practically every decision I have made in her care and upbringing was that I wanted her to get to the age of 18 without being molested or raped. Now that she’s 14, I’m working on making sure she has a foundation of what is right for her and that she never has to succumb to an abuser. The age of 18 is now innocuous as I no longer hold the pessimistic world view that being raped is an inevitable fact of life for women.
Rape is not inevitable. Rape is preventable. To me, “rape culture” is a society that knows rape and sexual abuse are wrong but looks the other way while mocking the survivors who are willing to speak up and shaming the survivors too scared to speak out.
When our culture stops heeding the media’s marketing and drinking the misogynist KoolAid that de-values our experiences as rape survivors, only then can we adequately prevent rape from happening. Women, men, and children are experience rape on a daily basis. Rape culture exists in religion as well as government and society. Rape is a tool of war. It’s time we put an end to the rape culture that propagates sexual abuse while it terrorizes and punishes the survivors.
Rape is not inevitable. Rape is preventable. End #RapeCulture.
Today, Twitter allowed me the opportunity to talk about my own experience of being raped and why I didn’t report it to the police. Because of shame, I never told anyone for years, much less explained the details. It was oddly freeing to talk about it, even from the computer… or maybe because I was talking from the computer.
At my age, I can talk about anything in front of an audience, and yes, I could talk about my rape. But I know many women who still cannot talk about their rape experience. So if I inadvertently piss off some followers by talking openly and honestly about rape, then so be it.
The great thing about Twitter is how people can find each other and talk about situations that most effect us — even very personal, life-changing experiences like childbirth, divorce, and abuse.
I posted this tweet after seeing a hashtag for #RapeCulture, and began talking about my experience being raped and why I stayed silent.