According to Alabama Code, Section 13A-6-60, “Deviate Sexual Behavior” is defined as, “Any act of sexual gratification between persons not married to each other involving the sex organs of one person and the mouth or anus of another.”
The reason, of course, for making such consensual sex illegal is to target members of the LGBT community, since Alabama and most Red States dwell in the God-fearing, fear-mongering, guilt-swilling Bible Belt. In fact, other media outlets have claimed this is a victory for “gay sex”.
But hold on, there, sparky! I guess no one realized that unmarried hetero couples also partake of oral sex and anal sex as alternatives to or in prelude to vaginal penetration … such as when a hetero couple doesn’t want to get pregnant, or maybe the woman is in those six weeks after giving birth when the vagina is off-limits to the guy’s penis? Or hey, maybe they just LOVE oral or anal sex?! Quelle surprise!
With oral sex and anal sex being decriminalized, it means Alabama is one step closer to acknowledging grown, consenting adults’ basic human right to do what they want in bed.
America is coming around, albeit slowly, to the fact that sex between consenting adults is no concern of government or religious busy-bodies.
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Copyright 2013 by Trish Causey. All Rights Reserved.
*Read Part 1.*
The fourth time with the new toy was a mixed, weird, confusing experience. Suffice it to say, this guy requires lube — lots of lube. I had already done a blended orgasm with my new glass toy (more on that later) to prime my vaginal opening, get the juices flowing, start stretching the vaginal muscles inside, etc. As before, the head took a couple of tries to fully enter, and as the head/corona passed my prostate, I felt a slight sting, but it wasn’t as bad as the first few times. I thought, “Great, I’m adjusting to him.” Then feeling the shaft enter, I was breathless again at the feeling of being so very filled and stretched.
Since I’d started my session early, around 10:30 a.m., I felt no rush to finish with Bob. In fact, over the next couple of hours, I would do a round of sliding him in and out slowly for about 15 minutes, then pull him out, and relax in a blissful stupor for another 20 to 30 minutes, having nipple orgasms, sheet orgasms, clit and spontaneous O’s, then I’d reach for Bob again for another slow and easy go of it.
Each time, I did not bring myself to climax with Bob, just enjoyed the orgasms from the slow and steady pace and the occasional hard and fast thrusting and pulling out to float in that bliss for a while, then starting it all over again.
Around 2 p.m., I began again, knowing I was wet from the other orgasms, I didn’t lube Bob this time. I noticed, he wasn’t moving as smoothly as he had before. I needed some lube. Then Stupid Me showed up and totally screwed this whole experience up. The feelings in my vagina were the same as when I endured friction sex while married. Though my ex-Asshole isn’t nearly this wide, he hated me getting too wet. This dry, friction feeling was then “familiar,” and being a little lazy, I thought I’d just put up with it because I really wanted the great orgasms I’d had the other few times with this toy.
Every time Smart Me said, “Man, I need lube,” Stupid Me overruled that inner voice with, “You put up with it when you were married, put up with it now and finish.” As the friction got to be too much, Smart Me won the debate, and I put a little bit of lube on the toy and re-inserted. I felt immediate stinging, more stinging, then being filled by the shaft, and then a surge of heat — not in a good way. I continued on, now that he was properly lubed, imagining my Dream Man, and long story short, I finished. Yes, the orgasm was great… but it was… weird… but it was beautiful… but weird.
I felt a strange emotion — yes, I cried, but there was something else. During that last bit, I had a realization of just what this toy represented for me. The images and feelings conjured during this session were so intensely powerful, I instantly knew who he was. The experience had become emotional during the session, and now, afterward, I wanted to give him a name, a sacred name. And I did. And I cried some more. I lay there for a while in my reverie, feeling a new awareness of completeness.
Knowing I needed to get up, I realized my fingers felt a bit strange, so I looked at them. My hands were covered in blood. I wasn’t on my period. I looked at the toy, and he was bloody, too. I got up and went to the bathroom and opened my legs up to the full-length mirror. My labia and thighs were bloody, and I had an immediate flashback to when I was raped at 21, after which I bled for 4 days. I remembered a couple other times I bled a little after friction sex.
As it so happened with this fourth time with this toy, I bled that night and the next day, but that was it. I have not noticed any blood or change in vaginal discharge. I never felt any pain, aside from the uncomfortableness in the moment of the “friction sex” before I re-lubed the toy.
In fact, in the couple days since, today now being 03-03-13, I have enjoyed all my usual orgasms and my new gentle-touch prostate orgasms. Everything is functioning perfectly.
Which leads me to an esoteric interpretation… In the very emotional moments of that last part of the session, I had a very clear vision of my Dream Man. He was absolutely clear to me. He is a feeling and an energy. I knew him so well, I called him a sacred name for the very first time, and I subsequently bestowed that name on the toy who is his physical representation for me.
Blood has a life force. Blood used to be an important part of rituals and taking oaths. To this day, Christians symbolically ingest the blood of Jesus when they participate in the ritualized cannibalistic practice of Communion/Eucharist. As a pagan witch, considering who and what this energy/feeling began to represent — my Dream Man, I’m not surprised that blood would have manifested as a sort of initiation with this new, clear vision — a consummation, as it were.
And yes, I know I sound crazy — I’m an artist, I always sound a bit crazy. Most people are so keyed in to the physical side of sex or climax, they miss subtleties of energy or awakenings that may be present. This vision I saw is no different than imagining a scene in one’s mind to help the arousal process along, but the difference here is that he appeared to me, and I knew him instantly.
Esoteric interpretations aside, I will have to see how using “Bob” (no, that’s not his sacred name!) goes tomorrow or the next day. I did not bleed the other 3 times, so I’m hoping that with plenty of lube, Bob and I will be hunky-dorey in our future rendezvous sessions.
Seriously, though, this experience was powerful for me, and though the blood had me a bit worried for that day, I’m hoping it was just a fluke… or an initiation.
Aroused and pondering the possibilities,
As my fingertips parted the opening of my vagina for the entry of the afternoon tampon, I had a sudden flashback to the days when I had sex — with that asshole husband of mine. So I’m slightly hormonal right now. I could really use a hug — and my pizza — if the fucking pizza guy would fucking hurry up and fucking deliver my fucking pizza already! And there’s no reason for this post except that I — Oh, brownies!
Where was I?
Oh, yes, fingers — vagina — tampon……
One of the great things about having spontaneous and stealth orgasms is that I no longer have to fight the urge to clit stim an O while I’m on my period. Sure, sex and masturbating while on my period are fun — a little slippery and messy, but doable with a towel and the understanding that the cervix is tender so hard fucking probably isn’t gonna happen — sorry, guys, will have to be * s l o w * sex, which means it probably will be emotional. That’s not a problem is it? Is it?! IS IT?! — What? They don’t do that in porn??? FUCK PORN!
Okay, so most women will not admit to masturbating with a tampon in, but let’s just assume that at least once in her life, a woman has.
Where is that fucking pizza?!
So I have this flashback to this time (one of several) when I was on top and his hands went from my hips to maneuvering a not so subtle reach-around where his fingertips parted my vaginal opening so he could come inside. I didn’t say anything at the time — I should have — but not only does that feel WEIRD, it can also kinda hurt. ASSHOLE!
Here’s the thing… My vagina is smarter than you.
My vagina is an amazing world that still astounds me. She has her own fauna and flora system, her own pH, her own nerve system that bypasses the spinal cord and plugs directly into the brain, is capable of several different kinds of orgasms, different kinds of lubricating fluids, and she’s just fun to play in.
However…. if the vagina isn’t ready for sex — fully, completely ready for sex — she will not be fully open. A vagina that is truly ready for insertion will be literally O P E N — regardless if the insertible is a penis, sex toy, finger, or oblong vegetable! The juices will be flowing, the tissues of the labia and the vagina swollen with arousal, and the opening of the vagina can even be slightly turned outward toward the insert-er as if to say, “My vagina says YES! Come on in!”
Bear in mind that for many women those bits of odd-shaped edges at the vaginal opening are actually the remnants of the hymen. As such, they don’t have any means of getting wet on their own. This is an excellent example of trickle-down lubrication. Vaginal fluid is clear and most easily created by stimulation of the A-Spot near the cervix. The prostate also creates fluid, but it is thicker and less slippery than the clear vaginal fluid. These fluids have to literally “trickle down” to the opening of the vagina in order for the opening to be lubricated as well. So splitting the vaginal opening with the tip of a finger, penis, toy, or cucumber when the vagina is NOT ready for sex can be awkward for the woman, if not downright PAINFUL.
So guys, please… “Foreplay” actually has a function. Foreplay does not exist to make the guy wait to come inside. Without foreplay or some kind of stimulation that really gets the vagina hot and bothered, the beginning of sex can be painful. (And you perhaps wonder why a woman is a “cold fish” during sex???!!! Just “lays there”????!!! Well, that happens when your body radiates with pain, asshole!)
Just 15 to 30 minutes of breast worship, sensual massage, yoni puja, and/or cunnilingus will do just fine. The time required will depend on the woman, but since, statistically, the average guy only lasts 2 minutes once he’s inside, I’d think you men would want to drag out the foreplay as much as possible, too.
Please note, however, that a little fluid at the gates doesn’t mean the whole vagina is ready. For me, a few quick stealth O’s only takes seconds to experience, and I can feel the rush of fluid press against the opening tissues. I part the opening carefully with my fingertips — with very short, trimmed nails, thank you! I feel the texture of the fluid and know what kind of fluid it is — usually clear, vaginal. But just being wet doesn’t mean my vagina’s ready for my purple silicone friend, Sparkles.
Men, I love you. Honest. And because you love us, do your woman a favor. Just because you’re ready to come inside doesn’t mean her vagina is ready for company. Enjoy the rest of her — her body, her mind, her sense of humour, her emotions, her humanity — and remember that the woman is more than just a warm, wet respite for your erection.
Fuck… I’ll just make Chess Chewies.
Aroused and opening,
In the South we like to eat a dessert called by various versions of the name, “Chess Pie.” As with most dishes, the recipe is slightly different depending on the region you’re in, but mostly it’s a very sweet dessert. Where I come from, we call it “Chess Chewies” because it’s baked in a 9″ x 13″ cake pan rather than a pie plate and cut into small “bars” rather than wedges.
The recipe I was taught only has 5 ingredients: yellow cake mix, melted butter, eggs, softened cream cheese, and a criminal amount of confectioner’s sugar. When people ask for the recipe, I tell them the 5 ingredients. They look perplexed. “It can’t really be that simple,” they are thinking as they take another bite, smushing it around in their mouths to masticate every morsel and decipher the hidden riddle of flavor I must be keeping from them. Invariably, they ask me if there’s lemon in it. No. Coconut? No. Pineapple? Nope. Such is the mysterious, sweet, but rich flavor profile of Chess Chewies… as I make them anyway.
Recently, I experienced quite a surprise while playing in my vagina.
Because I’m obsessed with vaginal health, I frequently do finger checks of my lady’s loins. Working from home, I can wash off after going to the bathroom so I’m in a constant state of fuckability. And if I get the urge, I’ll do a finger check then to see what’s happening inside during the daytime. In the shower each night, I do a check to make sure the vaginal fluids and prostate fluids look and smell right. *** I only use my finger inside my vagina — A clean finger and water — that’s it! NEVER soap or ANY cleanser! And I NEVER douche! ***
Vaginal fluid is clear and slick, but prostate fluid is creamy/opaque and can seem a little sticky. (I would say it’s actually more “tacky” feeling than sticky, but I don’t want people to think my vagina is tacky. She’s beautiful! :) ).
Anyhoo, I’m well acquainted with the look, smell, viscosity, and taste of my fluids during the day, at nighttime, during arousal, and after orgasm… and yes, there is a difference in both fluids depending on the kind of orgasm and how many I’ve had. I can’t describe the smell, per se, I guess you just have to know what a happy, healthy vagina smells like — I wouldn’t call it “earthy” and certainly not “musky” (who thought that name up anyway?!). But it is definitely my smell, and I love it.
Best of all, I love holding my hands over my nose after I’m done with orgasms and just inhaling the scent which is even more complex because of how I use my hands during the arousal process.
I’ll start with my right hand on my clit, dipping a finger just inside the inner labia to moisten and go back to the clit. Then I’ll finger inside to get the prostate and the “spots” warmed up. When I can feel the spots emerging from the vaginal walls and the prostate swelling and its texture changing from roughly smooth to more ridge-y, my right hand goes back to my clit or I’ll start massaging the inner labia with my fingertips. Eventually, when I’m ready to get this show on the road, my left hand goes inside to tend to my prostate and spots, while my right hand stays on the clit with long strokes or barely-there touch/circles. Occasionally, I’ll dip the right hand in again to get more fluids for the clit, and well, it feels good. :) But by that time, the in-and-out thrusting of my left hand is bringing plenty of fluid up to the surface for my right hand to coat my clit with.
I can feel the change in the fluids as they get thicker, heavier, and I can even smell them from there. As I near the first blended orgasm, I feel the clitoral cuff tighten (incredibly so! I almost can’t fit my two fingers in, but somehow I manage). And through the orgasms, the fluids keep coming, and I go until my hands simply can’t do anymore — my natural propensity is to bring my hands over my head during orgasm, so working my lady’s loins proves to be an enjoyable battle of wills between my hands that want to bring more orgasms and my mind that is too far gone to think logically and strategically about hand positions.
After the orgasms, my hands are covered in various states of vaginal fluids. The right hand has more of the pre-arousal and mid-arousal fluids and smells, while the left hand is saturated in arousal juices and the fluids that gushed from my vagina and prostate during the orgasms’ many contractions. Each hand smells differently and in different places — the palms smell different than my fingers. As I hold my hands up to my nose, covering my nose and mouth, I inhale deeply. I cannot believe how delicious this smells! Even better is the knowledge that no matter how many times I wash my hands that day, my orgasms will still be embedded in my skin, and I can revisit my orgasms in my memory by just holding my hands up to my nose and breathing in.
So recently, I have been having some interesting experiences with various styles of orgasm, and one day, about a month ago, I brought my hand up to my nose during the arousal phase, and recognized the smell instantly but it wasn’t a usual odor for my vagina. I did a double-take — or a double-whiff. And sure enough, I was smelling “Chess Chewies!” I’ve always loved how I smelled, and the Kama Sutra describes women’s vaginal and ejaculatory fluids as “sweet nectar of the gods,” but I never actually smelled like a dessert before.
I know that what you eat affects the smell of sexual fluids in both men and women. And I’ve been working hard to lose weight, so my food habits are a bit different. But to actually smell like Chess Chewies was awesomely weirdly awesome. I thought this must be a fluke — maybe that doughnut binge was seeping sugar into my vagina?! Except that this is what I have smelled like ever since — Chess Chewies!
The real test will come in a day or two. I started my period Wednesday, and here on Saturday, I’m on the last day of spotting. The smell is okay, but it’s metallic due to the blood. I can only hope that the dessert smell is a permanent fixture of my vagina. I mean, I already love her so much, can she possibly get any more incredible? I guess so!
And yes, the thought did cross my mind, that if I constantly taste and smell like dessert, my future partner won’t mind if I make hourly oral sex a rule of the relationship… Right???
Aroused and sweet,
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For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been waking up at 5 a.m.-ish. My first alarm goes off at the butt-crack of dawn — 6:40 — each morning to begin the ritual of getting my daughter on the school bus. So waking up before the ass-scratch on the butt-crack of dawn is much earlier than I want or need to wake up.
This morning was no different… Awake… 5:15 a.m… Ugh… Horny… Awesome!
Knowing I had an hour-and-a-half to play was an invitation I couldn’t refuse. But what to do? With ears close by, I couldn’t do a usual two-handed session because it’s much too noisy for the neighbors. I decided to go for a clit quickie… or so I thought.
I began with my breasts, of course, bringing on my cervical O’s, then went for clit-only stim. I tried a blend of OM technique with regular circle and stroking stimulation. I must admit that I knew instantly that mixing the two vastly different approaches wouldn’t work, and yet, like a moron drawn to the flame, I did try both. And it ended up with this “quickie” taking up almost that entire 90 minute window. GRRRRRRRRR…..
The OM seems to work on the autonomic system because the sensations that arise from the specific OM clitoral stimulation are not the same as the sensations brought on by “regular” friggin’ off. In fact, using OM — and just OM technique — is the only time(s) I’ve ever experienced full-body orgasm(s) via clit-only stim. Usually, clit-only stimulation induces a localized genitals-only orgasm. Not nearly as much fun as full-body O’s.
Mixing the two techniques seemed to completely confuse my clit, like she didn’t know which way to go, or what to do or respond to. I almost felt sorry for her. With 8,000 nerve endings in the clitoris, I think that changing techniques gets the wires crossed. It’s as if 4,000 nerve endings were responding in a particular way, so that changing the fingering technique abruptly stops stimulating those nerves and suddenly zones in on the other 4,000 who were on coffee break. Very disruptive to the arousal process and very frustrating for the woman attached to the clit!
What was even more frustrating is that I already know this!
The biggest mistake most men make when stimulating a woman is that they do some stimulation, and if she really likes it (evident by audible moans, changes in breathing, grabs his hair in her fists, etc.), the guy thinks, “Hey, she likes that, let me show her what else I can do!” NOOOOOO!!!
If you get a woman moaning, panting, and grabbing the sheets, the last thing you should do is change anything! Guys, I know this goes against the competition-loving testosterone flowing in your veins, the adrenaline flooding your brain, and the phony porn scenarios playing out in your memory, but TRUST ME — DON’T CHANGE ANYTHING! Not the speed, the pressure, the direction, NOTHING!
This may be boring for you, but for her, she will be forever thankful… as if watching a woman in orgasm could ever be boring! :D
The feelings during arousal were mixed between the rising energy of the OM technique and the expanding but localized heat in the genital area of the regular clit circles and strokes. Changing from OM to regular, I could instantly feel the rising energy plummet, hit the genitals, then switching back to OM again, feel the rise. It’s not that this was unpleasant. It was weird. I was horny and just really wanted a big orgasm.
I should have stuck with the OM technique and trusted it to take me where I wanted to go. I know it works! And yet…. GRRRRRRRR!
I’d finished my period — okay, technically, I was still spotting. This was another reason I wasn’t using a dildo; the cervix was probably still tender. And each morning this week, I’d awakened around 5 a.m., horny, but unable to pursue a delicious She Spot/prostate orgasm or a blended O because my vagina was otherwise occupied. Instead, with minimal breast stim, I would have my cervical O’s. Just thinking about sex brought on spontaneous, spine-arching, leg-raising full-body orgasms. But I really wanted a hands-on orgasm. And dammit, I screwed it up by mixing techniques — loving the energy of OM, but just wanting to be done so I slipped into the trap of resorting to ye olde friggin’ off stimulation. This back-and-forth pattern was doomed, and I knew it! But I did it anyway. GRRRRRRRR!
Long (90 minute) story short, the eventual orgasms were localized to my lady’s loins, but I felt “creaks” of weird energy through my torso up to my chest wall. That must be the craziest term every applied to an orgasm — “creak” — but that’s what it reminded me of, when opening a door with rusty hinges or walking up an old staircase and the sound or reverberations aren’t “solid” or “full” but are kind of hit and miss in rapid succession, but rising… Okay, I give up trying to describe it.
And while I thought this was weird, it was nothing compared to what happened later that afternoon.
* Read Part 2 here. *
Aroused and creaking,
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!
A current series on BBC Two is shaking up the bubble of religious misogyny that the Catholic church and fundamental conservatives don’t want you to know about.
Bettany Hughes, anthropologist and author of The Hemlock Cup: Socrates, Athens and the Search for the Good Life and Helen of Troy: The Story Behind the Most Beautiful Woman in the World, has appeared in several programs for the BBC and PBS highlighting ancient history and women’s place in it: Helen of Troy, The Minotaur’s Island, and When the Moors Ruled in Europe.
Hughes’ latest foray into the world of highlighting women’s contributions to world history is the BBC Two series “Divine Women.” She brings to light information about women’s involvement in religion, not only as supreme mother goddesses and priestesses to the masses, but goddesses and women as true forces to be reckoned with (think Kali), when women were revered for their ability to both create and defend themselves and their loved ones as they saw fit — essentially, these females were in complete control of their bodies and their own desires, a great reminder for women today!
Women’s independent nature has repeatedly been attacked for centuries in the form of witch trials and anti-suffrage movements. The inherent fear and jealousy that many men have toward women was first cultivated by the patriarchal, imperial regimes of antiquity in the original #waronwomen that we are fighting to this day.
Hughes’ soft-spoken, well-educated British delivery lessens the blow of shockingly empowering information, that heretofore, only we Pagans and heathens seem to have known. Elevating women to the status of not only equals in religion, government, and society, the evidence shows women were actually viewed as superior to men just as female goddesses overshadowed male gods. This may come as a surprise to religions that forbid women to be priests or governments that refuse to allow women to fight on the front lines of battle — all because we have vaginas, the part of woman men love and fear simultaneously.
In reading a review by a clueless male UK writer, he thought the first episode was slow, meandering, and overall lame. When I confronted him on Twitter, I substantiated my arguments with facts (and passion), and he accused me of being a “bot.” I guess that’s the social media version of when women are “emotional” or “high-strung,” we’re just experiencing the effects of being “hormonal” at “that time of the month.” He again proved that the average man simply cannot tolerate an empowered, strong, kicking-butt-taking-names woman — similar to the insecure men who banded together to erase women from history and religion, relegating women’s only value in society to giving birth to healthy sons and cleaning the house, doing laundry, cooking meals, raising the kids, and laying back for lackluster sex whenever the husband was horny.
Whether you believe in a duality of a higher spirit or not, the time has come to re-write the his-story books that erased women from its narrative. We regurgitate the names of male generals and the battles they waged and call it “history.” We revere the “Founding Fathers” with no regard for the women who were our “Founding Mothers.” This series, “Divine Women,” is a brilliant step in the right direction of getting accurate information about women’s true role in the history and the her-story of the world.
For now, UK audiences can watch it on BBC Two. When it hits the DVD section of Amazon, I am definitely buying it!
Agree or disagree? Leave a comment!
(* In response to a comment by a woman who was “fascinated by your cervix positioning depending on your cycle, & your awareness of it.” She also asked if I’m aware when my ovaries release an egg. *)
Years and years ago, I got in the habit of doing a general vaginal check every night in the shower… after all, I can’t tell a guy what’s going on in there and what’s what if I don’t know, right? So in the shower every night, I wash off and shave my outer labia and mons veneris. I insert a clean finger (usually middle) and circle the inside a few times. I can feel whether the cervix is high or low or Goldilocks. I can check the texture of the vaginal walls, prostate, perineal sponge, etc., for any changes in texture. And I check the color, opacity, and odor (none, thanks!) of my fluids / discharge. This is of course, before washing further south and behind — whether in the shower or in bed, the best practice is front to back.
Over time, I noticed the difference in my cervix at different times of the month. An interesting thing I saw in a nerd TV show (some Discovery show), was an MRI or CT scan of a woman during orgasm (so it was a 2-D side-view). The video showed that the cervix dips down to “scoop up” would-be semen to help it get to the uterus. So with knowing what my cervix feels like inside, I’ve been able to associate feelings during stimulation and orgasm during the month. Nipple stimulation can give me a cervical orgasm in about 30 seconds, but in the days leading up to my period with the lowered cervix, it’s more like 5 seconds and the cervical O’s are even stronger.
I’m trying to allow the cervical orgasm first, as a warm-up before direct genital stimulation, to integrate all the different sensations of the different kinds of orgasms — particularly the new power button of the female prostate. But sometimes it just feels like there aren’t enough hands in the room! (Because it’s just me!) I miss the theatre orgies of my youth, darn it. Plenty of hands around when you need ‘em.
Just to sound crazy, yes, there have been several times when I felt a “pinch” in the area of one of my ovaries, but I cannot testify that it was indeed me dropping eggs like a hen. However, by doing the nightly vaginal “howdy-do” in the shower, I have noticed several times that in the midst of clear discharge a small lump of translucent, spherical/elliptical …
something?… about a millimeter or two in diameter that made me say, “OMG, that’s an egg?!” … But again, no empirical proof.
Of course, these are just my experiences and observations. These statements have not been approved by the FDA, and your mileage may vary.
Aroused and journaling,
(* In response to a man who said young women should “exercise their PC muscles even if they are still relatively young there are so many benefits,” to which I disagreed and was asked by another man to provide “some instructive reasons” to support my feelings. *)
I’m a hu(wo)manist, and activist, and a temperamental Irish redhead, so any statement that includes “most women should” just naturally gets my hackles up. Nothing personal.
I think younger women are usually more physically fit and tend to be more sexually active than women who have the pressures and time constraints of work and kids, with added weight post-partum (leading to body image issues, lack of sex drive due to hormonal changes, and just being tired all the damn time). Therefore, younger women would not need to exercise their PC muscles because the muscle tissue is already firm and toned, through athletics, going out dancing, being more open to sexual adventures, et al.
It is the women in their 30’s and 40’s who have had physiological changes to their vaginal area, the widening and contracting of the hip joints and ligaments, and changes to the pelvic floor from carrying a child in utero and then giving birth that changes and possibly stretches the PC muscles to feeling weak. As we get older, the body parts shift, and sitting at a desk all day, in front of the TV at night, with such bad posture, certainly doesn’t help. This lack of general exercise women get once they are on the career path and have had kids tends to be quite sedentary compared to the long-ago traditions of walking for purposes of migration, foraging, and finding water.
Also, most PC muscle exercises (a.k.a. Kegel exercises) focus on squeezing UP. This is because the Kegels were designed to help women who were experiencing urinary incontinence — to encourage the sphincter qualities of the muscles and control “urine” leakage, especially during sex. (Those of us who subscribe to the veracity of Female Ejaculation as a legitimate sexual phenomenon wonder just how many of these women were actually ejaculators but forced into shame by an ignorant male medical system.)
For female ejaculation, the emphasis is pushing OUT, therefore Kegels are NOT the answer to better orgasms, but rather the death of the female orgasm. Squeezing UP cuts off sensation and compresses the tissues restricting blood flow and nerve endings. (NOTE: This purposeful “squeezing UP” is NOT to be confused with the natural reaction of the PC muscles to squeeze IN / vice-grip on their own, called the “clitoral cuff,” toward the entrance of the vagina as the vagina expands at the top during arousal and near orgasm.)
Women have lost our wymyn circles. In wymyn circles, we used to share these kinds of stories and experiences amongst each other. For instance, belly dancing, now a highly sexualized form of stripper / hooker / tease, is actually based in teaching teenage girls how to move their bodies during childbirth (and such movements’ obvious use in sexual / sensual settings with a partner). Hence the reason it’s CALLED Belly Dancing — you have to HAVE a belly to do it properly!
It annoys me to no end to hear women say they “can’t do belly dancing” because they don’t have a 6-pack. I quickly and, in no uncertain terms, explain that no woman with a 6-pack is geared for belly dancing because she doesn’t HAVE a belly. It is the breast-obsessed American perspective that has shifted the emphasis of belly dancing to breast-shaking. Belly dancing is an ART. And that “belly” isn’t just curvy flesh — there is extremely toned muscle underneath that has been trained to operate and shimmy in minute precision.
The “belly” comes from body fat as well as carrying a child. (NOTE to all: Women are SUPPOSED to have body fat!) The hip rolls, arches, hip drops, and other hip isolations are to stretch through the hip joints in preparation for the spreading of the hip joints beginning in the third trimester, as well as exercising the lower abs no one ever talks about. The rib isolations are NOT just to have the breasts go up and down for men’s ogling pleasure — they are to learn how to move your upper torso so you can still breathe when the kid inside is pushing your thoracic diaphragm up into your lung space. Abdominal and back rolls also help the body get used to involuntary movements during childbirth contractions.
If more women had a connection to our traditional women’s circles and sacred women knowledge, we wouldn’t need sex toys OR books. We would have elders to teach us and show us, passing the knowledge from one generation to the other. But until we officially shake off the mortal coil of western patriarchy and institutionalized religion that has made the female body sinful and sex evil, we have to get the knowledge somewhere and learn how to access these innate feelings somehow. So I am grateful for toys, books, CD’s, men who try so hard to understand us, and the women who are on the path of experimenting and experiencing what we are truly capable of sexually.
Aroused and journaling,