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

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AskTrish: Woman Asks If Uncomfortable Feeling When Boyfriend Touches Clit is Normal


Woman's Hand on YoniHi, trish,

I was wondering, what is it supposed to feel like when somebody touches your clit?  I have heard it’s supposed to bring a good feeling but not in my case.  When my boyfriend touches my clit, I get a really intense kinda uncomfortable feeling.   It doesn’t feel bad or hurt but it definitely doesn’t feel good either.  And it’s not something I look forward to.   My bf always wants to touch it but even if I let him, I stop him after a couple secs cuz it feels intense and uncomfortable.  Is this normal?

Anon

Hey, Anon!

So much to address here!

Let me assure you that pain or discomfort is never “normal” for any kind of sex ever.  No kind of sex (vaginal or anal) or touch or penetration should EVER be painful.  EVER.  (Okay, that wasn’t exactly your question, but I just want to reiterate that for the readers.)  What is “normal” touch sensation for you will be different for someone else, so my “normal” will be different from yours.  My “normal” now that I’m extremely in touch with my body will be very different from the “normal” that is “normal” for a female just starting to explore her body.  So without knowing your age (18+), your sexual experience, any previous trauma, how you touch yourself, and how he specifically touches you, there’s no way I can guess what would be “normal” for you.  But I can say that not-quite-pain, not-quite-pleasure feeling is common at first.  So let’s look at this bit by bit.

Vulva - Erect Clit ExposedThe external clitoris is literally the tip of the iceberg!  Most of the clitoris is inside the body, with several inches of innervated erectile tissue that expands and zings with sensation during arousal.  Those inches of erectile tissue that men have hanging outside their body, a.k.a. the penis, is synonymous with the inches of erectile tissue women have; ours is just inside us.

The tip of the clit, that little nub we can see, is technically called the glans, just like the tip of the penis is called the glans.  The tip of the clit is usually protected by the clitoral hood, which is synonymous with the penile foreskin.  With around 8,000 nerve endings, the clitoral glans is VERY sensitive to touch.  In fact, if you can see the tip, the clit is actually in the non-erect state; but that doesn’t mean she’s not enjoying herself — she probably is!  Nearing climax, the clit will seem to “disappear” into the fleshy folds of the vulva; but she’s not retreating from touch, she’s actually getting a full erection on!  This is usually when “vigorous” touch can be exquisite.

DailyOJ 01-20-12: The Clit Discussed Further

Female Anatomy: Clitoris Frontal ViewThe clitoral body can be stimulated externally by (gently) pressing on the mons pubis area or internally via various fingering and stroking techniques inside the vagina.  (Reminder:  the female prostate is on the anterior wall of the vagina and is a different anatomical structure.)  When a woman is nearing climax, there is often a “vice grip” clench at the opening of the vagina; these are the clitoris’ vestibular bulbs near the entrance.  The clit is actually quite extensive and complex, comprised of 18 distinct parts.  Your clit is MUCH MORE than just the nub on the outside!

But let’s remember, those are 8,000 plugged-in nerve endings.  Touching them before they are ready to receive pleasure input can feel awkward or even painful.  Since you sound like a young adult, I’m going to assume your boyfriend is the overly eager type who just wants to start pawing at your body (perhaps because that’s what he’s seen in porn, or he may be new to all this as well).  This is NEVER okay.  The man NEVER touches you anywhere unless YOU are ready to be touched.  You’ll know when your clit is begging to be touched, and if he doesn’t touch you properly or is clumsy, you have the right to tell him how to touch you.  It sounds like you are willing to stand up for yourself, and that is great!  You have complete autonomy over your body.

Here’s were I have to interject yet another consequence of circumcision.  If your man is circumcised, he may be accustomed to needing “rough” stimulation due to keratinization (callousing of skin) on his penis glans.  If your man is not circumcised, explain to him that touching your clit with little or no prior arousal is like someone yanking his foreskin back and going straight for the underside of his penis glans.  This can be very uncomfortable for the intact man!  No one likes too much sensation too soon, which is what it sounds like you’re experiencing from your boyfriend.

Nude Couple Embracing Passionately in PeachKeep in mind, there is a reason the female needs to be fully aroused before going for the clit or the vagina.  From a Tantra perspective, the woman and the man have positive and negative poles, like on a magnet.  For the woman, the positive pole is the heart chakra, home to her heart and her breasts, with the negative pole being the genitals.  For the man, the positive pole is his root/sex chakra, home to his penis and testicles, with the negative pole being his heart chakra.  Biologically, the woman needs 15 to 30 minutes of dedicated arousal, or as I like to call it — puja (worship :-) ) to prepare the vagina for sex.  The same way a singer has to warm up before performing, think of this time as necessary preparation — fun, delicious preparation for continued, evolving, expanding, rapturous ecstasy.   Therefore, this time allows the woman’s body, especially the genitals, to become ready to receive touch and penetration and pleasure.  It’s no coincidence that focus on the woman’s heart chakra would be key.  Not only does it stimulate the woman emotionally, but a woman’s nipples are wired directly to her clit.  Breast puja = a turned on, horny clit.  Any man who doesn’t want to commit 15 minutes of breast/sensual touch puja isn’t worth your time.

This 15 minute warm-up doesn’t have to be solely focused on the breasts.  Any sensual touch and massage will awaken the subtle body.  This includes kissing, nibbling, caressing, talking, laughing.  Once the woman is ready for more direct touch, the woman can allow the man to begin with touch and kisses on the insides of her thighs, the outer labia, the mons pubis — basically, loving all the way around the clit until you are ready for more.  As you become more experienced and more familiar with your body’s responses, you may not need this much time.  In fact, when you are able to stay in an aroused state — recognize that orgasm is an energy field you can slip into any time you want, you may not need much prep touching at all.  Just thinking of your man will send your spine arching back into orgasm and your clit throbbing for touch!  (In time, you’ll learn how to control this response when you’re in public, like shopping at the grocery story or the library. :-D )

Keep in mind, physical climax is different from energy orgasms.  Men often confuse ejaculation (climax) with orgasm.  These are two separate functions: ejaculation is a physical reflex of the sympathetic nervous system, while orgasm is a response via the parasympathetic nervous system.  Since men need less time to get aroused and ready for penetration, they tend to focus on the end, rather than enjoying the journey.  (Another horrible legacy of standard porn, too.)  Just like for the woman, this arousal time is also a time of breathing and relaxing for the man.  When your mind and/or body is stressed, pleasure can be elusive.  Take your time to get warmed up and totally invested in your body’s journey to pleasure.  There is plenty of time to get hot and heavy — once you’re BOTH aroused to the point of a crazed fuck-for-all.

Note:  This initial phase of arousal is usually called “foreplay”, a term I despise since it places the importance of the sexual experience on “sex” which is usually defined by the penetration, i.e., when the penis enters the vagina.  This devalues the woman and the woman’s biological needs of arousal in order to accept a penis (or toy) without pain.  So I do not use the term foreplay.  Puja is my personal preference.  Puja, the idea of honoring the person and their body, also puts respect back into the sensual, sexual experience, in my opinion.

You should know, Anon, that it takes time to get to know your clit and the rest of your sexual anatomy.  And you should spend a lot of time with her — just you and her.  This way you get to know how she likes to be touched, without the pressure of a panting, horny Lothario rushing you and making you feel uncomfortable or not “normal”.  Masturbation is a beautiful way to honor yourself (self-puja) and learn about yourself and your body.  Through masturbation, she won’t feel so foreign to you, and you will begin to integrate her into your body and your overall sexual being-ness.

After you are more familiar with your body, show your boyfriend how you like to be touched.  Masturbate in front of him, but he can’t help you — he needs to watch and learn.  (He can help later on.)  More often than not, a lighter, gentler touch is needed at first.  In fact, once your body is awakened, you might even have labia-gasms and sheet-gasms.  Hard touch is usually ONLY desired at the absolute height of passion and usually NEVER at the beginning of a love-making session.  When your clit is really ready, you’ll know because you’ll start looking for things to hump.  If you start eyeing the arm of the sofa with lust, that’s usually a good sign your clit needs some determined lovin’.

Recap of what we covered:

1 – Learn your clit’s likes and dislikes via masturbation; then when you’re ready, it’s show-and-tell time to teach your man.

2 – Female and male sexual anatomy are synonymous, for the most part.  Some things are similar to both the woman and the man, so teaching the man about the woman’s anatomy will help him understand how your body responds.

3 – Prior arousal is required for pleasure.  As you become more experienced, you may not need as much prep-time, but for now, insist on at least 15 minutes of sensual touch on other parts of your body to get your clit primed for touch.

4 – To learn various touch techniques for the clit, look through some of the videos and info here where the clit rules and men are glad to offer puja to a woman’s body (or willingly lie back and let the woman drive the orgasm train).

Feel free to leave a comment, especially if you want to offer more info so we can be more specific.

Thanks so much for trusting me with your clit. :-)

trish


Mind, Body, Spirit: Breathing ~ the Importance of Being Inspired Repeatedly


phoenix-gold-fire-blaze1I can think of no better place to begin discussing Mind, Body, and Spirit topics than with breathing.  Considering that the act of breathing is something most of us take for granted, the role of breathwork and mindful breathing can be truly transformative to your mind, your body, and your spirit.

The process of breathing is a complex coordinated effort that involves the whole torso, not just the lungs.  If you follow a yogic or body awareness path, then breathing can be a full-body sport.  As a voice teacher, I start all my students on ujjayi breathing, the belly breathing technique from yoga, before we sing any scales or attempt any songs.  The student must begin to incorporate ujjayi breathing into their everyday life and subsequently into their singing.  Phonation (sound production) is based on airflow.  While vocal science research has shown that the vocal folds are responsible for controlling airflow across the vocal folds when we speak or sing, breathing is a coordinated dance of the abdominal muscles, the thoracic and pelvic diaphragms, as well as the internal and external intercostal muscles of the ribcage (to say nothing of the bronchi and alveoli inside the lungs responsible for the gas exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide).

Deep, calm breathing has many relaxing and healthful benefits mentally and somatically.

Mind:

When we are under stress, nervous, or anxious, the body releases stress hormones such as adrenaline and cortisol.  An adrenal response evolved from the human body’s early days, adrenaline is great if you’re chasing a mammoth or running from a saber-tooth tiger.  It’s not so great if you’re about to go on stage to recite your lines or enter a restaurant on a first date.  Adrenaline floods the brain, sort of shutting down the frontal lobes, which are responsible for things like language.  (Another reason being nervous before an audition or a date can leave you stumbling for words like a blithering idiot.)  With the frontal cortex on coffee break, the primal brain takes over and straddles the fence in fight-or-flight mode.  Deep, slow breathing can counter all of this, calming the mind and allowing the stress to be manageable so you can deal with it like a rational human and not a caveman.  Breathwork allows you to focus on the task at hand or ease your pesky thoughts away if you’re trying to meditate.

Try sitting alone, with all noisy electronic devices turned OFF, and just breath deeply for 10 or 15 minutes.

Body:

Breathing is the action by which we replenish that chemical that is pertinent to our existence:  oxygen.  Breathing high in the chest — upper chest breathing — is a style of breathing in early English and French singing, but it is not recommended for any singing, speaking, or breathwork, in my opinion, because upper chest breathing also triggers the release of adrenaline.  Breathe low in the belly, breathing down into the pelvic diaphragm.  In voice, this style of breathing is called appoggio, but it is basically ujjayi breathing.  I’ve been known to have students lie on the floor or sit against the wall in chair pose to feel the expansion of the back while breathing and singing.  While on the floor, I have them place their binder or sheet music on their stomach so they can see when the book rises and falls and learn to associate that feeling with proper, deep abdominal expansion and contraction.  A mirror is crucial to see the ribs moving outward away from the torso.

When we focus on breathing, we tend to focus on our body and our alignment, taking an inventory of how we’re doing physically.  Tantra and Kundalini paths use different breathing exercises like kapala bhati and bhastrika that really, really work the body — these are powerful breath practices that require guidance from a teacher, especially if you’re engaging the body by applying “locks” at certain chakras.  And in case you’re wondering, oxygen feeds orgasms!

A basic Sun Salutation is a great way to combine deep breath and body work to get the blood and oxygen flowing.

Spirit:

The word spirit comes from the Latin spiritus meaning “soul, vigor, breath,” derived from the word spirare which means “to breathe,” the root of both of these being spir.  When we are born, the first thing we do once the umbilical cord is cut is breathe — we take in breath, we are in-spir-ed, or inspired.  The last thing we do before we shake off this mortal coil is to exhale our last breath — ex-spire, or expire.  In between that first inspiration and our final expiration, we take in and release breath repeatedly, or as we call it re-spir-ation, the act of respiration.

It is no coincidence to me that the lungs are located right there at the heart chakra.  Whenever we are touched emotionally — in a good way or unpleasant way, we tend to either gasp, inhale quickly, or exhale in sadness or disbelief.  I feel our emotions and breath are connected.  Mindful breathing helps us stay rooted, grounded to the earth, when circumstances leave our mind — or our heart — reeling.  Deep breathing can also lower blood pressure and slow a racing pulse.

Breathwork is absolutely fundamental to being healthy.  The art of being inspired repeatedly throughout our life is as simple as breathing.  When we’re overwhelmed, overly excited, can’t focus, or can’t think, deep breathing can help keep us centered and better prepared to relax into our task at hand or meditation session.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,

trish

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DailyOJ 02-12-13: Sheet Orgasms


nude-woman-redhead-arched-back-in-orgasm-300I’ve found a new way to enjoy my stealth orgasms — the orgasms that are brought on by little or no physical touch.  I wasn’t looking for a new approach to my quieter, yet, oh so fulfilling full-body waves of bliss, and yet I have stumbled upon “sheet orgasms.”

While doing the barest of nipple stim and reveling in delicious nipplegasms, my legs open wide of their own volition.  My hips move in their own dance, and my head is back in breathless euphoria.  With it being colder now, I sleep with my duvet cover on, and I happen to be snuggled under the covers this morning.  I move my hand to my labia, first outer, then inner labia, loving the change in her texture and posture.

My inner labia begin close to my vagina, but as arousal progresses, my inner labia extend upward, outward, as if standing at attention — the frilly edges more taut as they fill with blood in their own erections.  Barely brushing my fingertips across my erect labia, the full-body waves begin, and I feel expansion in my heart chakra.  I’m still amazed that slow, barely-there touch is so fulfilling, and infinitely more tender than hard frigging off.

I’m back on to nipplegasms, having gotten into a pattern of nipplegasms then barely-there gentle-touch clit O’s, and back again.  On the weekends, I do this for hours, not getting out of bed until around 2 p.m. — except on the Saturdays I make a concerted effort to get up by noon to catch the vendors at the farmers’ market.  But this is Fat Tuesday, Mardi Gras, and everything is closed.  I can stay in bed all day.

Back arched and head back, the nipplegasms are on auto-loop at this point.  As my knees part wide, falling open 180-degrees on the bed, the weight of the duvet presses the sheet toward me.  The sheet brushes my erect inner labia, and a jolt of energy surges up my body.  I thought it was a fluke, a wonderful accident, but I try it again, lifting my hips slightly.  Sure enough — ZAP!  There it is again.  I lift my hips the same way, and the full-body waves begin.  My hips circle several times, make figure 8′s in both directions as I learned in belly dancing, circle some more, then lift and lower in a plain ol’ back and forth motion.  I am breathless as the stealth orgasms fill me and energy zings up my legs and arms, with that familiar energy spiral in the ball of my left foot, sending energy outward.  The sheet has just become my new boyfriend.

Trying a few things, I learned that once the sheet is in the correct position under the weight of the duvet but not actually resting on my vulva, manipulating the sheet is not required, and any other touch of my genitals is not recommended.  The barely-there brushing of the sheet across my inner labia is all I need to induce these wonderful, deep feelings that can only be described as orgasmic waves that crash against the shore of my body, sending billions of tiny pinpoints of pleasure up through me and expanding outward.

Sheet orgasms… who knew…

Aroused and pricing 1500 thread-count Egyptian cotton,

trish

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DailyOJ 09-06-12: Same Ol’ Blended O With a Dash of Something New


So… this will be quick… ya know… like sex after you’ve been married a long time.

This session was almost identical to my last session, mainly because the storm energy was still buzzing through the air, and I still felt the effects of that weird buzzy-ness.  Electric.  (I don’t drink alcohol or do drugs, so I know it’s naturally induced.)  Also, my clit was there but still not as enthused as I would have liked.  The hands-on blended O went to orgasm (rather delicious actually), but oddly, I was waiting for my clit to reach orgasm not my prostate.  Usually, the reverse is true.

This blended O felt more vaginal/full-body waves-centric as a result.  The emphasis was on my left hand thrusting in and out of my vagina at rapid speed, rather than my other hand going crazy with clit circles.  Usually during blended orgasms, my left hand actually pauses at the entrance, still “connected” to my prostate, while my right hand circles my clit like a madwoman.  My left hand will then thrust a few times here and there to maintain the orgasms till I can’t do any more.

So this session was very similar with the one addition of a peculiar feeling after the hands-on blended orgasm set.

As soon as the main part of my orgasm(s) had stopped, I laid back on the bed — not crunching forward, not arching back, just laying back catching my breath.  I suddenly felt the want of emotion rising up.  This completely surprised me.  I have never felt emotion (the need or want to cry) except after solo, deep-thrust-triggered A-spot/uterine orgasms.  Not even using a toy to stimulate my prostate for blended O’s brings emotion.  I waited to see if it induced tears, but no, it did not.

After a few minutes as observationist, the emotional feeling faded, or more accurately, was absorbed into my self.  I certainly would have allowed the emotion.  But this was so new, I tried to watch its journey from inside my body, curious to observe why emotion from a blended orgasm, where did the emotion stem from — my core as uterine orgasms do, or from my heart chakra as most of my emotional orgasms do, or somewhere else?

This orgasm session was a completely new experience for me.  Honestly, I was a wee bit disappointed when I did not cry.  But I was so interested in this development, I just laid in bed and let it sink in.

Then, yes, I went for Sparkles… huge, numerous, loud orgasms ensued; cried because they were so awesome, neighbors called the police to complain about the noise, yadda, yadda.

(Just kidding about the police.)

Aroused and rising up,

trish

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


DailyOJ 08-24-12: Double-Dipping, Sporadic Awakening, & New Responses


Copyright 2012 by Trish Causey. All Rights Reserved.

I didn’t feel the need for laying in bed an hour or longer, to relax or process out mind noise.  I think I was “lying” broken” for less than half an hour, doing my SASO nipple-gasms and OM clit-gasms, just to tone down the sensitivity in my nipples and clit — otherwise I’d just orgasm through my KSMO session… (apparent fail — I still O’d through my KSMO session).  I did about 14 minutes of KSMO, using a mix of nipple stim, sensual massage, and then clit/prostate stim.  Following that, I moved on to a solo session.

The trip to full-on, penetrative orgasms didn’t take long, about 8 minutes, and the results were predictably amazing.  And yet, the emotion that came with the orgasms was unpredictably extended.  Not the hard crying that can happen sometimes, my body eased into this emotional response, but once started, it was hard to shut off.  Of course, I’m not in the habit of shutting off my sexual responses (anymore), so I let it play out, trying to feel what my body was experiencing with the after-orgasms, but feeling true emotion welling up and needing to be released.

I lay there for about a half hour, dreading the getting up and continuing on with my day.  I wanted to feel something new.  Strange how even these amazing orgasmic experiences are beginning to feel mechanical and routine.  Having stimulated my prostate during the KSMO session, she was primed for the Sparkles treatment.  But now, laying in the after-glow, I could feel her throbbing, growing.  She wanted more.  I wasn’t sure if my shoulder and wrist would last for another round, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.

I lubed up Sparkles, and on the insertion, I could tell I was much tighter.  My prostate was definitely engorged, as were the vaginal walls that were pulsating inward, and I think the inner clit was still swollen as well.  The sensation of being truly filled was almost breathtaking.  Not to disparage Sparkles — I got him for his upward curve, not his girth.  (Dammit.)  But I loved the feeling of being full.  With a truly turned-on prostate, I felt those all-over ripples down my arms and legs, my legs began to shake — which usually only happens with hands-on prostate stimulation.  I reveled in the feeling of needing to urinate because I knew it had nothing to do with my bladder and everything to do with my She Spot/prostate.  I had been missing that feeling all summer.  To have that wave, that full-body shudder was joyously pleasing.

I didn’t think my arm would last at this point.  I thought I might have to stop, but I soldiered on, and I’m so glad I did.  When the orgasms started, they were full-body, fully arching, fully voiced, loud, rockin’-and-rollin’ orgasms.  I kept going as long as my arms would let me, then they flew up over my head, and Sparkles almost went flying across the room.

As the last few orgasms hit, I realized my teeth were chattering!  This was a completely new sexual response for me.  I don’t do fetishy stuff — never used an ice dildo or anything, so I’ve never experienced chattering teeth before… (great… in my head, I’m now hearing the song “John Wayne’s Teeth Hey-ya”…)

Being Irish, I love being cold.  In the winter, I keep my house around 60, and it feels awesome.  I wish I could afford to keep my house this cold in the summer!  In winter, my teeth will chatter occasionally, but for the most part, I feel like I’m in heaven in a cold house.  This is ironic since my skin always seems to be hot to the touch.  When I touch people, they move suddenly, saying my hands are burning hot.  I joke and say, “I’m Irish.  I’m exothermic.”  If they’re Pagan or Witchy, I say, “I’m a Fire Spirit, hence my nickname ‘Lava.’”  (If they’re fundy Christian, I tell them I’m a Witch.  Just to see their reaction as they run in the other direction. :P)  But I don’t feel hot — I really think it’s my body just letting off the heat so I can be cold.  Go Team Shamrock!

The teeth chattering while crying was a bit weird… and yet knowing I had had a second emotional orgasm was oddly satisfying — not sure why… But as the crying and teeth chattering faded, I began to feel the beginnings of a heartgasm — a buzzing in my ribcage area, the faint beginnings of that astral pull I have been wanting to experience again.  Unfortunately, a full heartgasm did not develop (rats!), but I was able to enjoy some lingering prostate body-shudders later when I went to the bathroom, and sporadically since.  Also, I recalled that when I had the 2-week-long heartgasm last Fall as well as the heartgasms in May, it was due to double-dipping — going two separate rounds of penetrative solo sex that concentrated on prostate stimulation.  That info is now filed for next time!

After awakening so grandly on 08-08-12 and 08-10-12, then having the back pain for a week, then the subsequent chakra cleansing, then my period, I’m already getting tired of the stops and starts on my journey.  I’m ready to hit cruise control for a bit.  But that’s just some Yang energy coming to the fore.  After being so Yin for several months, I was actually getting concerned I’d lost my inner fire.  I’m very appreciative of the Yang energy surfacing long enough to say “Hi” but not overwhelm my new Yinning state.

I briefly entertained the notion of recording my orgasms so I can hear them later — to get a sense of what’s happening vocally when my body is blissed out orgasmically.  And then I had the horrible thought of taking a month-long break from any orgasms at all.  Now I know I’m going crazy.

Speaking of going crazy, I think my shamanic dreams are coming back.  The past few nights, I’ve had some strange and intense dreams.  So I’ve decided to start a dream journal as well.  More on that later.  But for now, I’m about to hit the busy, busy last week of the month to meet all my writing deadlines (for my paying jobs), so I might take this week off from intentional orgasms.  Hmmmmmm….

Aroused and chattering,

trish

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


DailyOJ 08-17-12, Part 2: Lying Broken in Pieces As I Heal


* Read Part 1 here! *

Glad to have movement and feeling in my back again after the excruciating pain that started a week ago, I was really looking forward to resuming my orgasmic awakening routine.  After all, my big, loud O’s had been on lock-down almost all summer while I gorged on stealth and spontaneous orgasms (now to be known as SASO).  Getting back on the path was a milestone for my 1-year multi-orgasmic anniversary.

The back pain had been a curious development.  Since losing almost 70 pounds from my highest weight, I know all about pain — back pain, hip/sciatica pain, lower back, neck, every joint imaginable pain, lower extremities/pedal edema, crazy hormones, all while being miserable inside as a person as well.

Similarly to my session on 08-08-12, I laid in bed for a while … a long while … as the majority of pain had melted away rather miraculously.  I don’t know why I had started this “tradition” of laying in bed, allowing my mind to wander, absentmindedly caressing myself.  In the summer, this was practically the extent of my sexual activities — with little privacy to pursue much fun, the SASO’s were exceedingly, surprisingly satisfying.  Now able to arch my back, the nipple O’s also made a glorious return.

The stealth clit orgasms were not instant as they usually were, but rather needed a few strokes on the upper left (my left) part of my clit to get going.  The right side of my clit is also very receptive to this touch, and I gratefully accepted the back-arching orgasms from that side as well.  Apparently, with the nipples unresponsive due to pinched nerves in my back, my clit had been less responsive to touch as well — not surprising since the the nipples are wired directly to the clit.

After an incredible length of time that didn’t feel like any time at all, I looked at the  clock.  I wasn’t even sure I had time to get the 20-minute session in much less the after-session fun.  More than an hour had passed.  I decided to begin, starting in my old-school style — with my nipples.  I had worried that starting back with regular practice had diminished my nipple/stealth orgasms in a phase of integration.  This can happen as you sojourn on any energy-based orgasm journey.  A big breakthrough explodes then fades — or integrates — as new experiences rise to the surface.  However, I think the issues this past week with the SASO’s were due to the back pain/heart chakra blockage.

I did the 20 minutes, moving to my clit and prostate for the last 10 minutes.  It all felt wonderful, and I was so glad to be able to move my hips again.  I was cutting it close to time, and with only an hour left of free time, I decided not to go for the full treatment but rather just lay in bed.  I took mental notes of all the energy zings all over my skin, the pulsating inside my vagina, the swelling of my prostate (!), the pulsating throbbing of my PC muscles, my anus, and the continuing circles and figure-8′s of my hips that I was not doing intentionally.

After a half hour of this, the “after-O’s” pulsed more slowly as they began to simmer to the background — notice I didn’t have a “big” O, and yet I still had the after-O’s!  Oddly fulfilled and thankfully not hurting, I got dressed, made up my bed, and walked (slowly) back to my desk.

It occurred to me later that lying in the bed before any stimulation or session caress or sounds had been an important aspect of my orgasmic awakening.  If you remember, I shared this article from another site on the concept of “lying broken.”  That being “broken” is one of those glass half-full situations.  You can see yourself as a shambles of what you were, or you can recognize that the pieces are now truly yours  to put back how you  want to be renewed.

This, then, was another eye-opener for me.  Though this experience happened on Friday, 08-17-12, and the Todd Akin “legitimate rape” debacle occurred over the weekend, remembering the “lying broken” article became a welcome glimpse of hindsight.  My heart chakra probably was triggered by my return to practice because it was my return to working on me.  For the past several months, I have been going through what I call the “Dark Side of Yin,” a chronic lethargy as old wounds churn at the core of me.  Not being alone during the summer, I had no real time or space to meditate or focus on myself in a self-healing capacity.  I also think some of the Kundalini awakening contributed to my turning inward so significantly — the coiled serpent that began her rise from slumber at my root chakra is making her way through my energy centers, and it appears my heart chakra was the wheel that needed to be cleansed this past week.

My work is not over for my heart chakra, but I do believe I have made great strides toward reassembling the pieces of my broken self into the newly forming me — as a whole woman.  And how fitting that this is occurring as I am about to turn 40.  I am still putting the bad experiences behind me, but more than ever I know that the pieces are mine to assemble as I see fit.  If I don’t like what I see forming, I will go back to lying broken until I once again have a clear vision of my self as a whole human being.  And unlike my afternoon schedule, I can take my time.  That’s why I’m here on this plane anyway.

Aroused and broken but healing,

trish

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DailyOJ 08-17-12, Part 1: Twitter War Triggers Blocked Chakra Energy


I’m writing this a few days after the fact for a couple of reasons:

1 – The events of this day were very powerful to me on an orgasmic and a human level.  I needed time to process them.

2 – The GOP had to go all stupid (again), and the entire weekend was dealing with the idiocy of rape culture.

So back at the drawing board here… my headspace has been so filled with the memory of my rape and reading readers comments, telling me about their rapes, that Friday seems blurry… like it  was 18 years ago and the rape was last week… or yesterday…

But the events of Friday were important so I will detail them, though perhaps not as elegantly as usual.

Friday morning began with getting my daughter on the school bus, after which I caught the local bus to the grocery store.  While shopping in the produce section, a small Twitter war began in which I was being ridiculed for being from Mississippi — as usual, and also as usual, made to be at fault for all of Mississippi’s past ill history.  Of course, I stood up for my state — my point being that Mississippi has a flawed past as do most states in this country.  (What?  New York was a slave state?!  Yes.  Quelle surprise! )  The New England states just like to think they’re perfect.  They’re not.

The perception of Mississippi will never change because the media and American culture like having someone at whom to point the accusatory finger, to blame for all the bad things in the U.S., which conveniently keeps them from looking in the mirror and fixing their own  problems.  The news never reports the good things that happen here — just the bad… unless that bad thing is Hurricane Katrina — that the media reported hit New Orleans — it didn’t.  The northeastern eyewall went over my house in Gulfport, MS, while we were inside, and I’ve got the coordinates to prove it!

As you can see, a lifetime of Post Traumatic Stress came up with that one stupid Twitter altercation, that ironically was with friends, but I was the butt of all the jokes and the lone voice for what is good and nice about Mississippi.  This hurt greatly that the ridicule came from friends because the incident triggered deeper hurts that I have held on to since childhood.

Being from Mississippi, I am not good enough.  For anything.

In dealing with the Broadway world for my day job and my radio show, I always dreaded being offered press seats that I would have to turn down because I don’t live in New York.  Invariably, they would ask me where I live (because how can a person cover Broadway and not  be in New York?!  (From working very, very, VERY  hard!).  I dreaded giving the answer, but always said with a smile on my face and a lilt in my voice: “On the beautiful Mississippi Gulf Coast.”

Silence.  Shock on the other end…  “Well, you don’t sound like you’re from  Mississippi!”…  “Oh, really?  And how do Mississippians sound?”  (Like TV and Hollywood stereotypes!)…  “Well, um…”…  Then I feel obligated to explain my mother was a literature professor and my father was a physics teacher turned physicist for the government, to somehow prove Mississippians aren’t stupid.  In fact, when I bought my new smartphone last year, I got a Manhattan number so at least when I ring the press agents, it just saves time not having to explain my area code… except that after three years, they know me now.

Having to defend myself just as an intelligent, well-read, educated, erudite ActivistArtist(TM) on a daily basis just gets old.  It’s exhausting.  And I realized it’s something I’ve been doing since I was a kid.  Trying to prove my worth as a human being regardless of one thing or another — the color of my skin, my freckles, my religious choices as a Pagan/Witch, being bisexual, having a child out of wedlock in a Red State, dealing with being molested as a kid, thinking I was doomed to Hell thanks to Catholic brainwashing, dealing with being raped as an adult and not reporting it for fear of public ridicule, losing my identity as a person and an artist thanks to my asshole marriage, regrouping with my musical work that was stalled because of the destruction of Hurricane Katrina, dealing with the bad economy, the BP Oil Spill, then becoming a single mom in an affluent artists’ hamlet.  I’m just tired.

So Friday, after a week of horrendous back pain which began after I started back with KSMO, I got home, sat down at my desk, and had a really good, gut-wrenching cry.  Not a pretty, dabbing-the-eyes cry.  No, this was full-out, cathartic wailing.

The crying brought me to my source of the pain — the fear that I am not good enough to be loved by anyone.  That if someone did love me, I have no idea why he would.  The irony is that I know I’m kinda fabulous in many ways.  I’ve got the bustline and the music fellowship grants to prove it.  But deep down… deeeeeeeeeeep down, I still have issues…. being told I was ugly as a kid, being told I was fat, that I should kill myself, that I’m going to Hell — for numerous reasons, then actually being fat as an adult, losing my sense of self and place in this world, hearing my asshole ex-husband’s ridicule of my singing voice and my original music plus his hurtful words regarding my body if I got breast reduction surgery, complaining that I got too wet during sex, that I shouldn’t do anything during sex because he would get insecure.

At times, it just feels like I’ve spent 39 years of doing nothing right.

Within an hour of this little emotional breakdown, I noticed my back was loosening up.  The pain, I then realized, was in a place in my back that I don’t normally get back pain.  Usually, the knots are along my bra straps horizontally across my ribs and vertically in both shoulder blade areas.  This pain was in the center, at the spine, directly behind my heart.  I jokingly thought that maybe the crying had knocked something loose.  Then I thought about that again.  The excruciating pain I had had for a week was literally almost gone.  The pain that was left was not the pain of clenched muscles contracting nerves (anymore), it was more like sore muscles, exhausted from clenching and spasming for the past week.  I could move through those vertebrae again — and I had not been able to do that all week!  The immobility through my back had prevented most kinds of orgasm — the stealth, Kundalini O’s make my back arch so there was no way to do that as I was accustomed… the few times I had stealth O’d, I literally tucked my pelvis so my back wouldn’t try to arch — not nearly as much fun.  The nipple orgasms were completely nonexistent because the nipple’s nerves stem straight off the spinal cord in that exact area of my pain — the area of my physical heart and my esoteric/Tantric heart chakra.

Looking at the time, I figured I’d better get on with my session for the day.  With the weekend coming up and the prospect of my period starting Monday-ish, I knew vaginal O’s would be another week away if I didn’t get this sh’O on the road…  Now that my back could arch, I wanted orgasms!!!!

* Read Part 2 here! *

Aroused and unblocking,

trish

For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s DailyOJ.
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


DailyOJ 04-25-12 & REVIEW: OM – Getting OneTaste of an Orgasm Meditation


As incredible as it sounds, one slight flex of the index finger can truly change your life.

OM is the clitoris-centric practice brought to the masses by Nicole Daedone, author of Slow Sex: The Art and Craft of the Female Orgasm.  In her TEDtalk, “Orgasm: The Cure for Hunger in the Western Woman,” Daedone explained how she came to OM-ing and how it changed her.  She says she’s not a New Age “woo-woo” person, but I won’t hold that against her. :)  Daedone is obviously passionate about getting this revolutionary information out to women, and so am I!

Speaking for myself, I find clit-only stimulation and orgasms to be extremely boring — or I did, before OM.  Having discovered my She Spot over a decade ago, I’m rather an aficionado of blended orgasms, stimulating both my She Spot and clit simultaneously to achieve both the full-body waves of the vaginal orgasm and the fireworks’ explosion of heat of the clitoral orgasm.  Since becoming acquainted with my prostate last fall and making peace with my breasts, I have been on a path of rediscovering my body now that I see it as truly mine — not a man’s plaything or a child’s source of nourishment.

I hesitated to even try the OM technique, which only lasts 15 minutes, because it is a couple’s practice, and I’m single.  I tried it the first time and didn’t get much out of it, but that was completely my fault.  After years of blended O’s, stimulating just the clit was weird, made even weirder because the fingering technique is not the hard and fast circles of friggin’ off women are so used to seeing in porn and doing on themselves. The OM touch is a gentle, subtle touch that I didn’t appreciate at first.

Clitoral orgasms are typically localized to the clitoral area, with an explosion that doesn’t leave any lasting orgasmic contractions the way vaginal orgasms do (for me, anyway).  The clitoris is itself much more than just the “rosebud” visible from the outside.  Also, after years of being on the vibration bandwagon thanks to effective marketing that makes women think “assisted” orgasms are better (they’re not), I had absolutely no feeling in my clit at all, unless I used a vibrator.  My clit was dead.  Having thrown my Hitachi Wand in the dumpster a year ago, I had to give my clit time to heal from the nerve damage while I began my new life as a Recovering Vibratoraholic.  It was then I realized that by using a vibrator on my clit and a g-spot vibe inside to orgasm, I hadn’t actually touched my lady’s loins in a damn long time — this was exacerbated by my new life and new stresses as a single mother.  The past year of bodily and orgasmic explorations brought me back in touch with the amazing textures, capabilities, and ever-changing environments of my genitals.  I only WISH I’d known about OM-ing a year ago!

My second go with OM-ing was late at night, when I was in bed and generally feeling very Zen — i.e., lazy but not sleepy.  I was too tired to drag out a toy and expend the energy that would entail, so it seemed to be the perfect time to try OM again.  Thoroughly relaxed — a rarity for me, I allowed myself to have a goalless, non-attachment philosophy toward OM-ing.  OM is simple and unpretentious, similar to how I like my sex.  After all, OM is a technique to make orgasms better, not necessarily to orgasm at that moment — which was good because the thought of a lackluster clitoral orgasm wasn’t appealing. (I was tired, not crazy.)

I set the timer alarm on my phone for the requisite 15 minutes.  As I lay there in the dark, with my nightly meditation CD playing, I began the finger technique on my clit — a very precise technique on an exact part of the clit — and began to have the most amazing sensations.  Heat began to rise up from my clit and circulate like spirals of arousal energy snaking up my body and down my limbs. (You don’t have to subscribe to chakras and chi to get the benefits of this mojo either.)

I could have lived in this energy forever, and knowing I wasn’t trying for an orgasm seemed to take some pressure off, and before I knew it, a huge, full-body orgasm hit.  My back arched, my legs kicked out, and I made my moans that I love so much.  It was incredible.  Actually, it was multiple.  I kept up the precise fingering, and the wave/explosions kept hitting.

It was like having two separate experiences at once: #1: an in-body experience of the orgasms and feelings themselves, and #2: an out-of-body/observer experience that was shocked that I’d just had a full-body O via clit-only stimulation — and not the frantic circle stim either, but the soft, light, unassuming OM flick of the index finger across my long-unappreciated clitoris.

Then the 15-minute alarm sounded.  I have never hated my phone more than at that moment!

The next surprise was the tears.  Since finding my true orgasmic potential, my orgasms are always multiples, and the denouement is always emotional.  The harder the gut-wrenching sobs, the stronger and more numerous the orgasms were.  Crying after a clit-only session was definitely a new one for me!

Since then, my clit has been more responsive to touch and required less stimulation during my other orgasmic pursuits.  I’m still learning about clitoral and vaginal orgasms and how they differ due to the different major nerves that feed feeling to the separate areas.

OM-ing is about discovery, and connection, and awakening.  It is about emotion and relating, and I can only imagine how powerful OM can be with a partner.

The only downside I can see to OM is that men may view it as yet another practice in which they do all the “work” while the woman gets all the “benefits.”  These insecure men probably wouldn’t appreciate the subtle genius of OM anyway.  ***NOTE:  Since the clit and the head of a man’s penis are synonymous, I would theorize that the OM technique could be quite delicious on the man as well, just re-set the 15-minute timer. :) ***

Yes, OM recommends a particular set-up or sacred space called “the nest” to create atmosphere as well as comfort.  It also requires a specific position for both the woman and her partner.  However, I don’t like the idea of the man’s leg laying across the woman’s torso.  For any woman who’s been sexually assaulted, this might bring up previous trauma.

The practice takes 15 minutes.  But once the OM-ing is done, you can both hit the bed (or the diningroom table) and continue with the merry-making.  And for those who are woo-woo-minded, Tantra and other sex practices acknowledge that it takes 15-30 minutes of stimulation to get a women fully aroused and in the multiple orgasm zone.  OM-ing is a great way to spend that 15 minutes.

trish

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DailyOJ 12-14-11: My Journey from Sexual Abuse & Bad Marriage to Vocal Activist & Orgasm Goddess


December 14, 2011

(*In response to a man’s question regarding my practice vs. the KSMO protocol. He wanted to know if I’d thought of waiting a day in between sessions to have regular orgasm sessions. He also queried my reason for pursuing KSMO since I seem to be so orgasmic. He then mentioned that women who use KSMO report intense orgasms with minimal stimulation.*)

In regard to waiting a day in between (as the KSMO protocol says), yes, I considered it, then decided to go for a fabulous orgasm instead.  I am in an experimental time.  While I want the grandest of magickal O’s that my body is capable of, I am enjoying the journey and learning about myself / my self in the process.  Maybe I’ll take the day off today, KSMO tomorrow, then have a solo session, and see what the Orgasm Faery brings.

And yes, I have delicious orgasms now, but this wasn’t always so.  Men only seem to notice the orgasms women have or talk about (or lie about in Cosmo or Penthouse Forum).  But women tend to hide the journey they had to travel to get there — to be able to orgasm at all, much less with a partner, much less have multiple orgasms.  I think this leads to a more important topic which is, “What exactly is the DEFINITION of ORGASM?”  It seems everyone has his or her own definition, and medical definitions tend to be clinical and sterile with no hint at the emotional side of orgasm or the bliss that is possible.  (Which is typical since “Western medicine” was founded by men.)

MY HERSTORY:

I started masturbating when I was 15, and while I liked the arousal (build up of tension) and lead-up to the orgasm (sudden release of tension, localized to the clitoris), I was left with that classic disappointment of “Is that it?  What the hell is all the fuss about?”  And yet, I kept coming back for more, each time hoping that the ecstatic bliss portrayed in romantic movies and romance novels was just over the horizon, if only I could stimulate harder, faster, longer, it could be mine, too.

I truly wish I’d had a women’s circle to belong to, to learn from — to learn how to cherish my female body and female sexuality in a healthy, safe, trusted environment.  Every female should admire and explore her body in front of a big mirror and appreciate her self for the amazing gift that it is.  Likewise, every (straight / bisexual) man should learn to give yoni massage and offer yoni puja on a regular basis.)

I found my G-spot / She Spot in 2001 or 2002-ish, and that made a huge difference because vaginal orgasms are like hot waves that wash over the whole body, rocking you back and forth as they crash against an unseen shore before another wave pushes forth.  The She Spot is part of the female prostate, and at the time, I had no idea what was in store for me once I awakened my prostate — that’s another story in itself!

A clitoral orgasm only took 2 minutes to achieve which was great for getting to sleep really fast at night, but the clitoral orgasm was localized to the clit and generally unrewarding (not anymore, though).  At the time, a She Spot-only orgasm needed an hour to an hour-and-a-half of constant, consistent stimulation to achieve the full-body waves (sans explosive tension release) orgasm.  This was exhausting, and without the explosion, unfulfilling, so ultimately, She Spot orgasms were more frustrating than anything else.  (They were also emotional, whereas clitoral O’s usually are not.)

I was looking for something that could get me great orgasms with less work.  Along the way, I began doing simultaneous stimulation of my clit & G-spot which would bring a pretty nice blended orgasm in about 10-20 minutes… but only one.  I wanted LOTS.  (For the record, I’ve got my time down to about 6 minutes, and the multiple orgasms that occur are outstanding… jus’ sayin’…)

I was molested as a child and raped as an adult, so being able to orgasm at all is a truly great accomplishment.  And thankfully, I have little to no mind fuzz because of it.  Anger?  Of course.  But that isn’t productive, so I choose to stay in good energy.  I was also in a very bad marriage for 13 years that was absolutely unsatisfying for me sexually.  In fact, when I did want to participate, he got defensive, accused me of not liking what he was doing — so unless I was on top or giving him a blow-job, I was on my back, just there for him to do whatever he was doing till he came and (thankfully) rolled off me.  Don’t bother asking why I stayed.  Let’s just say, at the time, I couldn’t afford to leave.  I’m happy to report I have been a single mom for a year and a half, making it on my own — thankya, thankya, vurry much!

MY JOURNEY:

I’ve worked very hard to be a fully sexual woman, so I don’t take any orgasm, “small” or “meteoric” for granted.  I appreciate them all.

I’m in tune with myself because I have a long-held activist streak, especially for women and women’s rights, and with that comes pride and the freedom to be a sexual being.  I’ve done years of work on myself to be at the point where I can have sex for no reason other than wanting to feel pleasure, i.e., not to please a man, make him feel better about himself, not to keep a man, or use sex to pretend I’m being loved.  It just so happens that at this point in my life, I want sex with emotion, i.e., to make love, not a casual hook-up with a carnal fuck.  (Sorry, feminazis.)

I loved learning Tantra positions and philosophies, but its focus is on partner work.  KSMO was the next step in my journey because I don’t have a partner right now, and KSMO is a solo practice.  But I didn’t expect the male jealousy and animosity toward women that cropped up repeatedly.

Sometimes, while reading the KSMO Forum, it almost makes me feel like I should apologize that, as a woman, I don’t have to overcome ejaculation or erection control, which is what brings most guys to KSMO.  Learning to female ejaculate is one PRIME reason I wanted to explore my body even more — to experience female ejaculation, which I have in low doses, but I want the full-out geyser experience.  So on this topic, I think we might always be Mars vs. Venus.  And yet, if I do apologize for not having to deal with erection / penis issues, then I’m apologizing for being female, which I absolutely will not do.

So when the guys start getting a jealous streak because they think women are getting a “free pass” in the orgasm department, they need to read the research statistics and know that women have as much mental, emotional, psychological, and physical crap to deal with as men.  Just because my erectile tissue is mostly inside my body doesn’t mean I don’t need to learn how to “control” it.  After all, how do you control something you CAN’T see?!  (A lot of inner work and genital yoga, that’s how!)  And since the medical establishment is STILL making discoveries about women’s anatomy and sexual responses, I will continue to enjoy learning as I go.

Anyone who’s done KSMO even half-assed (and that’s not an Aneros joke) knows that KSMO, Tao, Kundalini, Tantra, and other energy / sound-based protocols are about much more than orgasm.  You wind up dealing with things you thought you’d buried and hidden so well from the world.  You built really great walls so no one would know.  Then you get the Fu Dogs, Terrors, and Mind Fuzz breaking down your walls from the INSIDE, and you have nowhere to run.

I took 4 years off from KSMO because I needed to set my Fu Dogs straight.  I’ve spent years working on my own crap.  In fact, one of the things that confuses me the most is seeing posts (from guys) on the KSMO Forum who talk about all the mind noise they have and the issues that come up, but think the problem is KSMO.  Any energy / sound-based protocol done correctly purges the subconscious self of the ingrained, entrained, brainwashing crap of society, religion, media, previous relationships, et al.  But they fail to see that.  I didn’t want to take 4 years off from my orgasm schooling, but I felt that was what I needed to do.

COSMIC ORGASM:

Right now, I am more interested in the journey to the orgasm.  And I see the journey and the orgasm as a meditation.  I don’t think you can do KSMO, or Tao, or Kundalini, or Tantra correctly and not learn about yourself while learning about your body’s ability to awaken to orgasm.  I know the higher level energy field of orgasm exists — the cosmic orgasm, and that’s what I want to conjure at will.  I read the KSMO adepts talking about the energy as it moves within their body, and in KSMO orgasms, they float in that energy field.  I’ve been there in my astral dreams, but I want to be able to go there any time I desire it.

I just did an interview on my radio show, Musical Theatre Talk, with a master voice teacher who uses healing energy on and for singers.  Hearing her talk about raising, moving, and using energy for the purposes of singing and performing suddenly made a lot of sense to me re: KSMO, Chi, the Chakras, Kundalini serpent unspiraling, the raising / moving of energy the Adepts talk about.  I guess I just needed it in a language I understand — singer-ese.

The orgasms I’ve experienced since starting back with KSMO a couple months ago are nothing short of soul-stirring.  Even if the journey up to orgasm seems regular sometimes, the last part of the ride is not, and the intensity of my orgasms is beyond anything I’ve experienced prior to KSMO… and yet, I know there is more to explore — such as female ejaculation and further anal play, just to name a couple items on my to-do list.

And so I’m here.  I’m orgasmic.  I’m vocal.  I’m unapologetic.

Just following Jack’s advice on sensual touching has given me a new appreciation of my  breasts (which I always hated) and even my body’s ability to respond to touch.

And thank you, for being brave enough to ask me point-blank questions, and knowing (I hope!) that nothing I wrote is directed at you personally or energetically…. I’m just Irish that way.

Aroused and vocal,
trish

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


DailyOJ 11-29-11: Biggest Orgasm Ever & Female Prostate Awakening


Big-Bang-OrgasmNovember 29, 2011

I have a little more to report but it is similar to my previous journal entry on my expanding awareness and experiences with awakening my female prostate and the wonders it is slowly revealing to me.  But I don’t want to seem redundant — it’s not exactly the same ol’ song, but perhaps a variation on a theme.

With the Turkey holiday, I was not at home by myself during the days last week, so my KSMO practice dropped to nill. By Sunday, the schedule was almost normal (because school would be back in session for my daughter Monday).  So Sunday night, I decided to enjoy some solo sex as it was my day off from KSMO, and I was off my moon (Auntie Flo had left the building!).  My female prostate was buzzing back to life, and I was just plain horny.

I don’t know what happened, but I enjoyed the upswing to orgasm and the after orgasm, but somehow missed the explosion of the orgasm itself.  It reminded me of my old She-Spot orgasms (She-Spot stimulation only) where the build up can blend into the after-orgasm without that “cresting of the wave” or as I term it, the “explosion” of the orgasm.

The explosion orgasms, for me, are clitoral.  Long ago, I put 2 and 2 together and got explosive, full-body orgasms by doing clit and She-Spot stim simultaneously.

But this on Sunday, almost felt like a let-down.  Although it was deliciously pleasurable, without that “cresting” at the top of the wave/orgasm, all I got was the denouement.  But I kept stimulating, wanting to come “again” — and this time feel it.  But I stayed in the after-O state for a good 20 minutes before I just gave up.  Now, please know, this all felt really good.  In the after-orgasm phase, I’m still highly aroused, making sounds, rapid breathing, legs shaking constantly, everything pulsating and contracting.  I just really love that explosive part of orgasm.

Then Monday, I really felt my female prostate all day.  When I went to the bathroom, my FP (female prostate) was pleasurably noticeable.  Around 2:00 p.m., I figured I’d skip the 20-minute KSMO practice and just take care of my FP which seemed to really want some attention.  So I did.

As in the previous post, stimulating my prostate (just the finger pumping of the FP, no clit stim) for 10 seconds at a time was more than I could handle.  I had to stop 3 times.  Again, I thought I’d just use my penis-shaped vibe (minus the vibration) to achieve orgasm, assuming it would be less intense than the FP/finger pumping.  AGAIN, I was wrong.  I couldn’t handle that either.

I would start the finger pumping — instantly , my hips shot up off the bed, I was whining/moaning, and I didn’t last more than 10 seconds — literally.  I stopped, my hips dropped to the bed, and I was panting, out of breath as if I’d just run up 10 flights of stairs.  I’ve never felt anything like this.  Ever.

So I gathered my courage and attempted it again — with the same results: hips reaching to the ceiling, me whining/moaning, unable to stand the intense pleasure erupting from my prostate.  I stopped, dropped to the bed, and panted.

Determined to conquer whatever this was, I went for it a third time with the same results — again — after only 10 seconds — again.

I brought my fingers out of my vagina.  Panting.  I was not sure what to do next, but I suddenly started crying.  I was feeling all the great pre- and post-O arousal I normally feel but at the same time.

Finally, I decided to just go for it.  I didn’t care about the neighbors or if anyone could hear me.  I made sounds I’ve truly never made before, felt things I’ve never felt before, and I wanted it to go on forever.  I wouldn’t have minded if I didn’t have the explosion part of orgasm because, frankly, I didn’t know if I’d survive it.  But if I’m gonna go, I figured this would be a great way to die. :-)

When the explosion happened, I almost sprang off the bed.  I burst into a million stars and floated up.  I was there with the Universe.  I was the Universe.  It was absolutely indescribable, the feelings of being connected to everything at once, infinite joy, love, peace — just as I’d felt in my dream / astral experiences.

My physical body burst into gut-wrenching tears, and I cried uncontrollably, heaving sobs my body is not used to emitting.  My body was doubled over, then jerking back into tension-filled arches, then doubling over again, over and over, convulsing from the emotion of what I had just experienced — all while I was still orgasming from the emotions springing from my core, my awakened prostate, and experiencing this uterine orgasm for the first time.

I don’t know how long the orgasm lasted — yes, I kept going with the vibrationless-vibe because for me, stopping the stimulation at or just after orgasm feels like having my soul plucked out from under me.  So I kept going through the post-orgasms — the quaking after-shocks of hundreds of smaller orgasms and contractions of the clit, She-Spot, cervix, uterus, anus, legs shaking, hands and feet buzzing with energy.  Except these weren’t smaller like they usually are — they were intense.  I finally stopped because it was so powerful  I actually thought I might really die from the pleasure — a full-body heart chakra attack… and I was blubbering like an idiot.

This experience seemed to last forever, but looking at the clock it was only 2:45.  How could I have experienced “forever” in less than 40 minutes?  And to be honest, I really needed a big hug.  Sometimes being alone truly is lonely.

*** Read Part 2 of this journal entry. ***

Aroused and awakening,
trish

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


REVIEW: Journey Through the Chakras CD


Journey Through the Chakras is a guided meditation CD by “intuitive counselor” and musician Colette Baron-Reid.

An author and creator of oracle cards, Baron-Reid is billed as having “facilitated hundreds of her popular seminars and workshops on developing intuition.”  She also wrote the books The Map: Finding the Magic and Meaning in the Story of Your Life and Remembering the Future: The Path to Recovering Intuition.

Baron-Reid is firmly entrenched in the 21st century New Age movement, so this CD may not resonate immediately for those who are more logically-minded.  However, without knowing much else about her and by listening to the CD, I can sense Baron-Reid is adept at helping clients attune to their inner selves.  After all, loosening the hold (and reliance) on the logical mind is part of the inner journey we all encounter as we grow spiritually and energetically.

“Chakra” is Sanskrit for “wheel” and refers to the philosophy of seven energy centers that correspond to seven body centers from the tailbone to the crown of the head.  As with Chakra or Kundalini training, Journey Through the Chakras begins with the first chakra and its correspondences, progressing through each energy center.  The vivid guided meditation is narrated by Baron-Reid herself, over original music by Mars Lasar.  The CD concludes with an original song written and sung by Baron-Reid.

Pros:
The CD has its flaws, but overall, I do think it has merit for those wanting an indirect lesson in learning about the chakras.  It is less than an hour long, and yet doesn’t feel that long.

The very aspects of the CD that some listeners find endearing, others will find annoying:  repetition of certain phrases, nature sounds, breathing “ahhhhhh” sounds at various intervals, and New Agey music underscore.  Oddly, the more I listen to the CD, the less some of these elements stand out, and therefore the less they annoy me.

Cons:
Baron-Reid is clearly not a voice over artist.  Her voice has a rasp to it that some find to be sultry, but I do not — I think she needs to be seen by a speech pathologist.  She also breathes in strange places, and her voice gives out at times, which are clear indications of weak breath support.  Her glottal stops on words beginning with vowels were truly annoying to me.

The audio engineer did not edit the voice over track to current industry standards — you can hear Baron-Reid’s mouth clicks, lip smacks, numerous plosives, and weird breathing.  **Note:  I am being extremely picky here. Some people find her voice to be “sultry” and “husky,” lending a sensual feel to the meditation.  But since this is an audio review, I have to lay it all on the table for the potential listener.  Your mileage may vary.**

Overall:
It’s too soon to tell if I will ever really love this CD, but I do think it has some valuable properties.  I have found myself plugging in to listen to it as I lay on my bed, wanting to let my mind wander a bit.  I do not focus on picturing the journey as she describes, but rather what I want to think about, and yet, I occasionally find myself suddenly visualizing the scene she is currently describing.

In the few days I’ve had the CD, I’ve listened to it perhaps 5 to 7 times.  Each night I’ve had a strange dream or series of dreams involving my current life circumstances (which I never dream about), people I know (I almost never dream about people I actually know), situations I know I need to resolve, getting help (from people I never thought would be willing to help me), and other “strange”/never-dreamt-that-before types of dreamscapes.  Interesting, indeed.

How to Use this CD:
Like most “pursuits” that are spiritual or energy based, you cannot actually pursue them.  Your subconscious self has to be open to receiving information which in turn allows you to experience and integrate needed information into your psyche and your subconscious.  Only half listening to this CD brought me dreams I don’t think I would have had otherwise.  I can only wonder “what dreams may come” if I actually did the meditation/visualization.

Perhaps I will revisit this review in a month’s time.  I am not sorry I bought the CD — I generally despise guided meditations and I’ve never bought one before now, so the fact that I actually bought this and keep listening to it must mean something positive for its effect on me.

Aroused and meditating,
trish

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


OpEd: How I Like My Sex… Bare…


In The Jungle Book, Rudyard Kipling’s loveable bear, Baloo, doesn’t want much out of life.  He prefers a simple, uncluttered, unfettered existence.  In the Disney film version, Baloo sings a fanciful tune about “The Bare Necessities.”  This prompted me to write about what I like from a sexual union, a night of ecstasy, and the promise of wanton desires fulfilled.  (With all the hooplah about what people are supposed to do to “create” a romantic evening — what we should wear, what we should say, what techniques we should know, what doo-dads, gizmos, and whizbangs should be at the ready — I simply must offer my two cents.)

In “The Bare Necessities,” Terry Gilkyson’s lyrics go like this:

Look for the bare necessities
The simple bare necessities
Forget about your worries and your strife
I mean the bare necessities
Old mother nature’s recipes
That bring the bare necessities of life.

I want the bare necessities when it comes to sex.  No pretense.  No acting out a scene from a movie.  No bullshit.  Just being a real person with another real person enjoying a real moment together.

What does this mean?

I hate lingerie.  I don’t want rose petals on the bed.  No candles.  I don’t want a steak dinner beforehand.  I don’t drink.  I can’t stand perfume or cologne.  I despise “romantic” music.  I refuse to “talk dirty.”  I won’t play “dress-up.”  I don’t do S&M (or bondage or dominatrix/submissive crap).  I don’t like kink.

Why?

I’m fat. Why kill perfectly innocent flowers?  Can you say “fire hazard?”  Who wants to fuck on a full stomach?  Alcohol tastes gross.  Allergies.  Cheezy city!  Don’t bring your porn fantasies to me.  I do theatre for a living.  Solve your “mommy issues” on your own time.  It’s weird.

Now that that’s all clear… here’s the reason.  I don’t want  my partner focused on all the peripheral “stuff” when he or she should be focused on me.  And likewise, I don’t want to be in a panic trying to get everything ready.  Again, dealing with “set dressing,” lighting, and sound is what we theatre pros call a “tech rehearsal” or a “hang and focus” in the theatre biz. I certainly don’t want to do that when I’m supposed to be getting aroused, anticipating the events to come.

Mainly, I don’t want to feel like I’m putting on an act, pretending to be something I’m not (more theatre).  I want to walk into the room naked, body flaws and all, and that be okay because my partner sees me, the person I am, my heart, my soul, my being, instead of all the ways I don’t meet the American standard of beauty.  My mind should be filled with a million thoughts of how I can touch him — not wishing I could afford lipo.

So here’s the recipe for having sex with me:

  1. Don’t be a moron.  (I’m afraid I must insist on this.)
  2. Be prepared to be naked immediately.  I don’t do bullshit / tease / “foreplay” on the couch.  We’re heading to the bedroom post haste.
  3. The lights will be low and minimal, but definitely enough light to see everything.  And I mean, everything.
  4. Speaking of seeing everything, make sure you shave your balls — and wash your ass crack.
  5. The music will be a meditation CD of my choosing.  Get over it.
  6. The sex starts with talking for an hour or longer…

(Okay, I know I just lost the male audience, but “bare” with me.)… If I haven’t been with you before, how can I know what you like?  Should I assume what you like based on what my last partner liked?  Or the guy before him?  Do you really want me remembering them while I’m with you?  Didn’t think so.  So start gabbing.  Of course, we can touch, silly.  Did you think we would only talk?  If that’s the case, then let’s braid our hair and do our nails!

Why spend so much time on talking and experimental touching?  If you’re familiar with the concept of positive and negative poles of the body, then you’d know a woman’s breasts (in line with her heart chakra) are the positive pole and the true entryway to the vagina (her sex chakra).  For a man, his positive pole is the penis (no pun intended) which is his sex chakra that leads to his awakening in his chest (his heart chakra).  It seems the old adage really is true, the way to a man’s heart is through his penis, and the way to a woman’s vagina is through her heart.

Do I have favorite positions?  Of course.  The Kama Sutra, Tantra, the Tao, and Kundalini teachings are filled with ideas for sexual awakening, soul connection, and heart chakra fulfillment. That doesn’t mean they’ll work with you.  Or vice versa.

A shorter penis works well for women on top, a longer penis is great for side-behind.  A curved penis is great for She Spot stimulation like having one leg over his shoulder (Splitting the Bamboo) position.  Breast worship is a prerequisite to yoni massage or any genital yoga.  Lingam massage and oral ecstasy are two of my specialties.  Then there’s one I named the Reverse Rockingchair.  (Don’t ask what it is.  There’s only one way you’ll ever know what it entails.)

Seriously, though, communication is vital to the partnership, whether it’s for one night or a lifetime.  If all you want is the quick screw, then you’ve definitely come to the wrong place.  I expect this to go for hours, and while I suspect there will be orgasms a-plenty, I’d rather have a connection with another human being than a race to the finish. After all, I don’t need a man for orgasms — I do that amazingly well on my own, thank you very much.

Therein lies the problem.  I don’t need a man.  I want a man.  I don’t need sex.  I want sex.  There is a difference.  I don’t need a man in my life to take out the trash, mow the lawn, change the brakes, or fix the leaky sink.  I can hire tradesmen to handle repairs around the house or on the car.  As a 21st century post-feminism empowered woman, I don’t look to a man to fill “necessary” roles the way 19th century women needed men to be able to accomplish certain tasks for the upkeep of the farm or homestead.

I don’t “perform” in bed (more theatre intrusion).  I don’t want you to have “performance anxiety” either.  I want to sit together, and touch, and kiss, and experiment.  I want to caress, and nibble, and coax, and cherish you.  And I want you to want the same of me, for me, and with me.

I realize that by asking for something so simple and “deconstructed” I’m asking for quite a lot.  I’m asking you to leave your ego at the door, along with your preconceived notions about what I want or how I want it.  I’m asking you to give up your innate goal-oriented competitiveness, the ingrained score-keeper, and the death-grip on your self-worth and masculine identity.  I’m asking you to give up the enculturation of patriarchal propaganda. I’m asking you to just… be.

I know exactly what I want and how I want it.  I can tell you, and I can show you.  All you have to do is pay attention.  Ask questions.  But to do that, you have to focus on me, the real me, and not keep a running tally in your head, comparing me to the other women you’ve been with.  Be here.  Now.  Be in the moment.  Be egoless.  Nothingness.  Non-attachment.  Just feel.  Be.

I like my sex simple — bare — stripped of the illusions put forth by Cosmo sex quizzes and Victoria’s Secret catalogues and the myths perpetuated by porn and skin mags.  Sex should be a spirit connection not just mutual masturbation.  Otherwise the orgasms will only be physical.  And I’m not interested in that.  Make me fly — fly upward above the earth, across the universe, through the veil, and let’s bask in the energy of cosmic orgasm and our union with the cosmos.

That’s not asking too much…

Aroused and baring all,
trish

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


My Journey to Multiple Orgasms, Part 1


As a radio personality, I love talking about subjects that mean a lot to me. As a woman, one of the most important topics is female sexuality — a women’s inherent right to be sexually satisfied.  I was able to bring the two together when I interviewed Jack Johnston, discoverer of the Key Sound Multiple Orgasm Trigger Protocol.  Listen to the replay.

Unfortunately, numerous studies prove that women are still not getting the orgasms we deserve. Between 70-75% of women have never orgasmed during sex.  (I am one of those women.)

I firmly believe that a woman is 100% responsible for her own orgasms when she is with a partner. And the best way to learn how your body responds is by experimentation — ALONE.  This is crucial if you have been in a long relationship, just got out of a long relationship, have had kids, or perhaps just got the kids off to college and you find yourself with more time to focus on your self.  This alone time is also very beneficial if you are still in recovery from sexual abuse.

I found KSMO in 2006, but dealing with the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina quickly put my practice on hold.  In 2010, I left my asshole marriage and became a single mom, so all of my attention became focused on keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table.

I came back to KSMO in August 2011 — when I realized that I could finally breathe and do something for myself, attending to my sensual and sexual needs that had been dormant for years (see aforementioned asshole marriage).  The timing must have been right because I had wonderful immediate, sometimes startlingly amazing results achieving multiple orgasms every time I had sex using less stimulation…  I’m proud to say I’m a Recovering Vibratoraholic.  My sex life is much more “hands on” nowadays.

Having studied Tantra and Kundalini, chakra work and reiki, Buddhism and Hinduism, KSMO seemed to be the “boiled down/concentrated” version of these other more complex systems.  But KSMO is deceptive in its simplicity.  As a practice, you do have to practice — only a few times per week.  One adept likened KSMO to a bamboo plant that will grow beneath the surface for a while then suddenly burst forth.  KSMO is very much like that — it can take months of practice with seemingly no orgasmic progress, then suddenly your body is re-wired, re-energized, and you are changed.

Aside from the delicious multiple orgasms, KSMO brings on heartgasms, deskgasms, laughingasms.  You’ll feel energy flowing through you; your hands and legs will buzz; and you will see the world differently.  You may also find yourself dealing with long repressed emotions and memories.  These “furballs” are common for KSMO practitioners to deal with.  For those who are still dealing with sexual trauma, touching the genitals is NOT required to achieve orgasm through KSMO practice.

And while I’ve had my personal issues with a few male members on the Forum and had to address the topic of male jealousy of female orgasms, I don’t discount the value of the KSMO Forum or Jack’s work.  So listen to the program, and if you get it (I hope you do!), tell Jack you heard about it from Lava, KSMO’s resident Orgasm Goddess. :)

trish

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


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