RADIO: Trish Causey Talks With William Buhlman About Astral Travel & OBE’s
Tonight on The Trish Causey Show, I talked with astral travel and out-of-body experience expert William Buhlman.
Here’s the link to the replay: Trish Causey Talks With William Buhlman About Astral Travel
Bill has over 40 years of experience with his own OBE’s and teaches his technique around the world as well as at the famed Monroe Institute in Virginia.
On the show, some of the topics we covered included the following:
- What is the Astral Plane, and what is beyond
- Spiritual experiences (NOT religious!) due to having an OBE
- Astral sex (of course, I had to ask!)
- Dreams, meditation, past lives, religion, angels, and more!
Listen to the show, and then leave your comments HERE! Can’t wait to read what you thought of this cool topic. I truly enjoyed chatting with William Buhlman.
Have a look at some of his books below, and he told me after the show that he has a new book coming out on the afterlife. So I’ll have him back on the show soon to discuss that!
Thank you all for listening!
trish
Recommended Reading:
Health, Fitness, & Nutrition: New Articles’ Series From ArousedWoman!
Now that we’re moving into 2013, I want to start a few new series for my ArousedWoman readers that focus on Health, Fitness, and Nutrition, respectively.
These will be separate categories but they certainly intertwine in their importance. Overall health is required for vibrant sexual response — even if you’re not with a partner. You cannot be truly healthy if you exercise a lot but then eat junk food on a regular basis. Likewise, eating a healthy diet but not allowing your body to utilize its full range of motion can adversely affect the muscles, tendons, ligaments, even your bone density and skeletal frame.
There is energy transference from the food you eat; and if you ingest unhealthy, “dead” energy, you are unhealthy, “dead” energy. The body can mask the mounting long-term effects of eating the Standard American Diet (SAD) until it seems too late. However, no matter how old you are or how long you’ve been out of shape, it’s never too late to revamp your approach to your health. After all, erections and orgasms require happy muscles and healthy blood vessels!
Your approach to balancing your overall health should include stress-reducing practices such as moderate exercise and meditation(!!!). No New Age woo-woo stuff here, people. Science is finally catching up to what yogis have known for millennia. Meditation is very good for you! Not only is meditation great for your mind, but it is also beneficial for your body by increasing oxygen intake, lowering blood pressure, and controlling stress hormones.
On the short list for topics, I will be discussing diet choices for aphrodisiac nutrition, primal/paleo vs. vegetarian/vegan, vitamins and minerals supplements, as well as fitness tips for functional strength/resistance training, flexibility, and range of motion, and other lifestyle choices that will keep your body in optimal orgasmic health. This summer, I hope to begin a video series on all this as well.
You only have one meat-suit, people. Take care of it while you’re using it this lifetime. 
trish
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NEWS: ArousedWoman Focuses on “Awakening Sexuality in Mind, Body, & Spirit”
If you read my post from the other day, you know ArousedWoman is now 1 year old — and what a year it has been! I did not set out to create what ArousedWoman has become — I just followed my heart to continue my activism for myself personally and “to stir to action” and “awaken” others to the need for activism for women’s rights and other issues collectively. And poof! ArousedWoman is now arousing readers around the world.
As I review everything that’s gone on in 2012, I am re-focusing ArousedWoman for 2013 and beyond. My activism is definitely still here (sorry, men ), but I want to hone in on specifics to awaken people to healthy sexuality and a sex-positive outlook. Sex is not about control, or pain, or staying quiet to keep the peace in a relationship. Our sexual happiness is fundamental to our happiness as human beings, and I don’t think true happiness is possible if we’re playing manipulative games within our sexual relationships.
If you’ve read much of my blog, then you’ll know that I approach sexuality from a Tantric perspective, with leanings toward Kundalini and other ancient wisdom. With so many people trying to find their sexual identity in our 21st century soulless culture, a link to the past is a good grounding for wading through the murky flotsam and getsam of shame, fear, and guilt pervading our Puritanical society.
I think the human body is beautiful. Sex is beautiful. Orgasms are beautiful — and natural — and healthy. With that as my foundation, I am re-focusing ArousedWoman to “Awakening Sexuality in Mind, Body, and Spirit.”
Not just a sex blog, I want to help people on a myriad of levels. Sexual health begins in the mind, but vitality of the body and spirit are just as crucial to being happy sexually, and in turn, happy in your everyday life. And my dear atheist readers, don’t get scared by the word “spirit”! Spirit has nothing to do with religion (religion is an evil pyramid scheme for an elite core of men to gain and maintain their power and wealth). I may throw some good ol’ pagan sex rite stuff in here occasionally, but trust me, religion is NOT on the menu here!
Orgasm is not just a physical phenomenon but more truly an intangible response of the subtle body and the parasympathetic nervous system. I will cover some non-traditional aspects of holistic growth such as exploring dreams, meditation, breathing, stress relief, raising energy, shamanism, Tantric bodywork, bioenergetics, the brain vs. the mind, meat-based diet vs. vegetarianism, nutrition, exercise, and controversial topics such as entheogens and polyamory, to name a few.
Beginning this summer, I will be creating videos that address some of the issues and posting them on my new YouTube page. The videos will cover anatomy, nutrition, exercise, and more topics that I will also cover here in the blog. Why not sooner, you may ask? I need to get a video camera with a mic input. So until I upgrade to an iPhone or shell out some moolah for an actual digicam with a mic input, the videos will be on hold till summer-ish.
And I’m close to announcing the beta test for my orgasm training method, so be sure to sign up for my newsletter for more information on how to apply for that when the time comes.
All in all, I am profoundly grateful for all my new friends I’ve gained in the past year. It really has been amazing! Looking ahead, 2013 is destined to be even better. Stay tuned for exciting developments!
trish
DailyOJ 01-23-13, Part 1: Knees Up, Glass Toy Orgasms
Copyright 2013 by Trish Causey. All Rights Reserved.
Back on my own during the days, I have taken to using my glass toy (which I have not yet named ), along with trying a slightly different position for my legs, and getting some great results — probably helped with my breast massage regimen and breath+sound work I’ve borrowed from Tantra and Kundalini practices.
For my orgasm sessions, I begin with just laying back and relaxing, breathing normally, letting my mind let go of the thoughts that are still buzzing across my conscious self. After 10 or 15 minutes — I don’t time it, I move on when I feel ready and mind-full (of nothing!). I start the relaxation breaths, adding in the occasional “Aum.” This lasts for maybe 15 minutes.
I add in sensual massage. Usually, I’m careful not to touch my nipples or I’ll start having energy orgasms immediately. I’ve found that if I start the massage on my clit, it lessens the sensitivity on my nipples (slightly, and only temporarily), but gentle, barely-there caresses of my clit and labia are simply luscious.
I may move to my nipples (more often than not, yes, I do) for some amazing stealth orgasms, or I’ll lightly brush my fingertips across my left hip which triggers jolts of energy up my leg to my left nipple, hardening her immediately. My right hip is not as quick to react and the energy is more subtle, but my right nipple still hardens into a pucker, reaching up to a point.
Many times recently, I have stayed there — just doing the lightest touch of my skin, my nipples, clit, and the inner and outer labia. Barely brushing my fingers over my clit shaft starts full-body orgasms that have my legs coming up, my back arched, and my head back facing the pillows, and I’m left breathless. I can keep these going for a while. These kinds of orgasms are different than “traditional” or manual orgasms in that these don’t take ANY work , and they’re like riding clouds of energy, with energy waves hitting my body like water crashing onto the seashore. I’m energized by the orgasms rather than being worn out after my usual blended orgasms (which rock my world but are exhausting).
Pressing my fingertips into my outer labia, I can feel the thick, corded bands of the PC muscles. Barely grazing my outer labia, they feel like velvet, warm and throbbing. My fingertips barely whisper across my inner labia which are still reaching outward at this point — they will lie open soon. This touch can start labia-gasms, and I can feel the texture of the inside of the inner labia change as the bloodflow to the tissue increases.
I’m still new to the direct, purposeful stimulation of my U-spot, the erectile tissue around the urethral opening. This area is usually stimulated without intention during blended/penetrative orgasms, but I am now focusing on the U-spot to help encourage my journey into female ejaculation.
Bringing my knees up to my torso definitely shortens the vagina, and it makes using the glass dildo easier on my wrist due to its curve. This makes for a wonderful stimulation of my prostate. Since the glass toy is narrower and shorter than my purple silicone friend Sparkles, it also feels more like a directional finger than a “toy” or penis substitute. I can definitely feel the tip and side as it rubs across certain spots (yes, the female prostate has more “spots” than just the G-spot/She Spot). Moving the glass toy back and forth, curving up at the side ensures the side of the prostate are stimulated as well — and this feels delicious.
Stimulation of the prostate, and most areas inside the vagina, are not as “pin-point” as stimulating the clit, but the vagus nerve and auxiliary nerves definitely make up for it by creating a feeling of a bubbling, churning cauldron of arousal energy that is ever-building, ever-growing, expanding outward through me and upward into the torso and heart chakra.
I consciously push out when stimulating the prostate directly — contrary to what “popular” opinion says to do with the stupid Kegel exercises (which actually inhibit vaginal orgasm). I LOVE the feelings that overtake me — like I suddenly have to go to the bathroom, like my insides are about to fall out — because I know my prostate is about to hit her stride and bubble over into full-body orgasms. I push out and remind myself to breathe — sometimes I catch myself and realize I’m holding my breath. There is a fetish of choking for some few-second orgasm that is ridiculous and dangerous. Oxygen FEEDS orgasms — breathe, breathe deeply, breathe fully, taking the breath into my belly and down into my pelvis… Breathing is essential to life and to orgasms… though saying “life” followed by “orgasms” seems redundant….
The double layers of muscles that line the vagina begin to rock and roll, and I manipulate them to keep them strong — so I don’t lose my skill of giving “vaginal blowjobs” (moving the vaginal walls in such a way as to give the penis the feeling of being sucked very powerfully).
Read * Part 2 * here.
trish
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DailyOJ 11-17-12: Mind Noise & Saturday Morning Blended Orgasms
I went to bed late last night — actually, early this morning. It was after 2:30 a.m. that I finally stopped replying to tweets, took my shower, and got in bed (and replied to some more tweets). I allowed myself the late night because this morning would be Saturday, and Saturday mornings are my SASO’s and blended O’s time.
This was the experience the other day, but today I encountered mind noise… and yet another reason to not be attached to the outcome… goal-less.
I was doing my hands-on blended O stimulation, and everything felt wonderful. I didn’t try thinking about Mr. Dream Man, I just focused on my body — the amazing sensations of the arousal, the shaking of my legs, the zinging energy, the heat raising up, my whole body really coming alive after a full night of rest and a long time of spontaneous O’s, nipple-gasms, and gentle clit-gasms just moments before. Truly wonderful.
Then I reached a certain point of arousal where I seemed to have slipped into neutral. I wasn’t progressing toward climax, nor was I regressing to less arousal. I was… stuck… in neutral gear…
I had marked the time when I started since I’d noticed hands-on blended O’s had started taking a while to experience, sometimes 30 minutes or longer. Now being stuck in neutral, trying to avoid conscientious time-noting, ego-driven minutes-counting, I was growing frustrated. The mind noise began. Should I just stop? (Too horrible to contemplate.) Should I try some fantasy? (Tried. Failed.) How long before I’m just totally ego-driving this process? (I really want to experience the yummy blended orgasms.) Does that guy outside really have to use a leaf blower in the middle of the day? Can’t he just use a push-broom or a rake on those leaves? Jeez….
Being “stuck” in neutral gave me a unique vantage point to observe my body — the changes through the arousal process, the jolts of energy still zinging up my legs, my glutes clenching, my hips rhythmically raising and lowering on the bed. And perhaps best of all, I was incredibly wet! My previous fears that my body was experiencing hormonal changes that were affecting my vaginal fluid production were allayed, thanks in no small part to my resumed regimen of chia seeds, fish oil, dark chocolate, and lots of water. I was ecstatically happy about the incredible amount of juices covering my vulva and upper thighs.
I must have been stuck in neutral for 10 minutes or longer. My attention kept being drawn to my left hand, the one working my prostate, feeling my hand sliding around on the vaginal and prostate fluids. My wonder at the physical process occurring sparked a thought… This extended, consistent stimulation of my clit and prostate is one of the hallmarks of arousal that brings about female ejaculation. I thought on that another few seconds. If I kept doing exactly this — this left-hand pressure and thrusting on my prostate, this right hand stim of my clit, my wetness, my clenching — I was bound to finally achieve true female ejaculation! How awesome would that be?!
The moment I had that thought, I could feel my inner clit squeezing like a vice-grip as its blood-filled erectile tissue expanded inward against my vaginal walls. I knew that feeling was the first cue of impending multiple orgasms. Except now, I wasn’t ready to orgasm! I wanted to feel this ejaculation cruise control! But I didn’t have any towels, and with the colder weather, I had my duvet on me and didn’t want to soak it. So I resolved myself to probably not ejaculating in one gush at that time — I was satisfied with the rhythmic release of fluid throughout the session.
When the orgasms began, I was mystified by their intensity and power. That “neutral” gear had served a purpose! It did something to my body — whether it was solely physical or a mind-body combo — that laid a foundation for the orgasms that literally rocked my world in that moment… for many moments… My whole body was involved in this process — I crunched forward repeatedly, my knees were up, my hips were rocking up toward my hands. I kept rolling over to my left side, my legs started kicking. I was making all sorts of weird moans — some lower pitched, some higher, all wild woman.
After I couldn’t use my hands anymore — my arms flew up over my head — my hips and legs were still going. Without the need for keeping my hands where they were, I rolled back and forth, my back arched, my nipples brushed back and forth against the sheet spurring the nipple-gasms and more back-arching. I felt the insane throbbing in my labia, my vagina, perineum, anus, energy zaps up and down my legs, all of it signaling an array of delicious orgasms, both body-centric and energy-induced.
As I lay in bed, still somewhat panting from the orgasms, I noticed a strange sensation in my left hand. Energy was zinging up my fingers, up my hand, and into my arm. Usually energy comes up my legs or out my left foot (at the ball of my foot). This was different. It felt as if my fingers were plugged into an electrical outlet and electrical energy was shooting up my fingers and up my arm to my neck, scalp, and face. Then I noticed I felt a similar electricity/energy up my right hand and arm.
All in all, this session from start to the end of the orgasms (that I was able to hand stimulate) was 21 minutes. Absolutely 21 minutes of incredible bliss — and so worth that neutral gear interlude in the middle. Like a symphony, the “lull” in the middle just laid the groundwork for the crescendo of the last movement, building up to the fireworks at the end.
I laid there, stunned by the awesome power of the experience. I can only hope that if I again experience that “lull” of neutral gear, I’ll remember this experience and know even that down-swing of the cycle has a purpose. I’m not broken, my practice is going fine. And I’m grateful for this experience to amaze in wonder at my body, the rising levels of orgasms possible, and the necessary ebb and flow of the arousal process.
Aroused and cruisin’,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s DailyOJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 10-19-12 Part 1: September & Crawling Out of Yin
I’ve been trying to figure out what is going on. And I’m not any closer to understanding what’s happened with my progress, except that what started out as a great upswing in August seems to have already begun the cycle downward.
September was, once again, a month of huge transition for me. On the good side, I gleefully entered Cougar-dom. But personally, I was going through a lot that I can’t write about in a public manner like this (yet). Last September, the end of my Karmic Year, heralded the end of an amazing year professionally, personally, and orgasmically, only to turn my bliss upside down with the death of my theatre mentor, my father had to have multiple operations, and my daughter was ill. I’ve never noticed September to be such a gateway of abrupt change before. Perhaps because change is already in the air each September with the arrival of Autumn, the end of (most) fears of bad hurricanes, my daughter’s new school year beginning, my birthday, and it is the month before Samhain (the Gaelic turn of the year and honoring of ancestors and those who have died).
With all the focus on my theatre writing career, getting ArousedWoman kicked into gear, my daughter starting high school, and other things that ground me in the mundane, I had felt the loss of that higher vibration that I’d been swimming in since September 2010. That September, I had just moved out of my miserable marriage, was starting my new gig writing about theatre for a major online site, and began my journey on energy orgasmic awakening. It was truly wonderful back then. September 2010 to September 2011 was astounding and life-changing in so many ways. September 2011 to September 2012 was wonderful, too, as well as trying and frustrating, but ultimately rewarding.
From an orgasmic point of view, my SASO’s (stealth and spontaneous orgasms) had not been so stealth or spontaneous. The instant nipple-gasms were not so instant. Granted, I no longer needed my O’s to be stealth — I’m home alone during the day again. But the nipple-gasms now took 30 seconds or so of stimulation to start the orgasm ball rolling — same with my not-so-spontaneous OM-clit orgasms. Also, my body did not react the same to these orgasms. My back arched but not as much or as suddenly as when these type of orgasms first began. Nor were these orgasms fractal as they had been during the summer when I could literally have orgasms for hours just by barely touching my nipples or the upper left side of my clit, or even from the brush of air from the ceiling fan! Compounding this, the after-O’s were not as strong nor lasted as long. I was not having deskgasms, leg-gasms, heartgasms, urination-gasms, scalpgasms, or face-gasms.
It’s as if I somehow became unplugged from the multiverse’s orgasm channel. I’d lost my ticket to the cosmic bliss train.
Is it the end of the world? No. Is it the end of my world? Quite possibly. When everything else in my life is crazy and uncertain, having the bliss of my SASO’s was like a calm in the storm.
Now, I know the men reading this just want me to get back to talking about my vagina, or my clit, or anything other than what they probably consider “nagging.” But as a woman, this mind fuzz is a big part of why women aren’t sexually satisfied. We worry. A lot. The worry keeps us in the mundane when orgasms, particularly the energy-based orgasms, require the psyche and spirit to be free to lift up to a higher vibration, and by leaving the mundane physical behind, the body rises up to the higher vibration and, therefore, to true orgasm, rather than the person settling for climaxes that are limited to the manipulated reflexes of the mundane meat-suit.
In truth, I realized sometime during the summer that my over-allowance of Yin was affecting me adversely in my personal and even professional life. I will write more on that at a later date, since I’m still crawling out of that experience. But September 2012 was the lowest of the low points in regard to Yin taking over. Life circumstances presented me with the choice of wallowing in a more self-destructive version of Yin or begin the climb out and start fighting again. At the time, I choose to climb and fight. I lost the mundane battle, as I thought I would, but at least I fought, and that was a huge milestone for me in my journey toward balance.
Don’t get me wrong. I had welcomed Yin — I was too extremely Yang in life, career, and sex. I needed to learn to allow and to receive. I appreciate the lessons learned from Yin. However, somewhere between the allowing of Yin, the rising of sexual Chi through Tantra, the awakening of the Kundalini serpent, and the overall self-discovery of spontaneous cosmic bliss, my awareness pendulum had swung too far into the realm of Yin. I was too much the observer and not the do-er, the receiver not the initiator.
This is crucial to understand because, for me, orgasms are no longer about sex, being sexual, or being physically, sexually satisfied, but rather, orgasm is about plugging into the super-consciousness, living in a higher vibration, and enjoying the lift-off to the Other Side. Riding that wave is like leaving the body behind for a while and swimming in total awareness of the cosmos, surfing above the clouds in an energy that is almost indescribable.
All of these revelations were important to my growth. They signify I have more work to do on my self. This requires patience, acceptance, and time. And that really sucks.
* Read Part 2 here. *
Aroused and climbing,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s DailyOJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 09-29-12: My 40th Birthday & First Ever Nude Photoshoot
Just a year ago, I dreaded the idea of turning 40. Just as a decade ago, I dreaded turning 30. Turning 30 was hard, perhaps because I was still in the crux of a life I didn’t want, trying to make sense of that life, and wanting desperately to get back to being true to myself.
Almost two years, I left that life I didn’t want and started over. I had built up my radio show, was a professional theatre writer, an award-winning composer, and mom to a cranky but wonderful tween. And while I didn’t (and don’t) have a car, a TV, or even a livingroom couch, I had my freedom. That was paramount. I was free. I AM free. And anything else is just crap to get through. But mostly I am happy — so much happier than I have been in the past 16 years, it really is unbelievable.
The purpose of the photoshoot was for a calendar submission. (Don’t know yet, if I made it in.) But just doing it was scary and invigorating. Though my male friends on Twitter constantly tell me my body is fine, I am still coping with this dual personality that exists within my perception of myself. I still feel 19. My body was amazing back then, thanks to years of ballet, theatrical dancing , belly dancing, and performing in Musical Theatre. Now, all these years later, after being overweight for years and having had a child, my body has that “lived in” look. Stretch marks. It’s all I saw when I looked in the mirror for the past 14 years. I saw my flaws and practically counted all the ways a man would never want me because of how I look.
Oddly enough, doing my Tumblr page has been a great source of readjusting my attitude toward myself and my body. For all the sex confidence I have (yes, I AM fabulous in bed! ), the idea of being naked in front of a man again was almost terrifying. Since starting this blog, I’ve openly dealt with issues that I had only previously stuffed down inside me — to my detriment. Now that these wounds have been given the light of day, I feel them healing. Having done the photoshoot, other wounds surfaced, but already they are healing as well.
The day itself was a bit crazy. We had thunderstorms and flash flooding outside. Inside, I was trying to work, then get ready, shaving everything with a new razor that left razor burn in the most inopportune places. With the rain, curling my hair was impossible, so I had to use the curling iron to smooth out the Irish frizzies and tame the wild woman ends. I was worried about Chipmunk the Squirrel who had been more independent lately, but I was afraid the storm might bring back bad memories for him of his fall the day before Hurricane Isaac, when I found him. At one point, I had so many lamps on, I short-circuited the breakers to half the apartment. I asked the Universe to be with me as I flipped the breakers a couple times. Thankfully, there was light. Otherwise, the photoshoot would be a no-go, and I really wanted to do this ON my 40th birthday.
In fact, the whole day seemed to be a test of one kind or another, as if the Universe wanted to make sure I really wanted to do this, and how far would I go to make sure it actually happened. This need to do this on my birthday come hell or flash flooding’s high water was important to me. One thing I haven’t written about here is the slump I have been in for the past 6 months, a slowed down, introspective journey I had asked for to discover my Yin, but I had no idea how bad it would get. I will write about it soon, but it is a tale for another time.
The photoshoot itself was an eye-opener. The photographer was a friend from high school that I hadn’t seen since graduation. I had sent her info ahead of time of colors, set up, and what I wanted the pose to be so she would know ahead of time. Apparently, this was only her second nude/implied nude shoot, and it was very obvious within the first few shots. Also, the fact that she’s a size 0 made me even more self-conscious. At this point, I was thinking I would have preferred a male photographer so I could feed off the male energy.
In reviewing a few of the photos in the camera, she seemed not to know how to talk about my body, since my body is soooooo well-rounded. She even made a comment, “Yes, I can see how we want to do this differently to avoid that.” That was the rounded curviness of my breast and butt. I said, “Actually, I really like that. That’s exactly what I was going for.” “Oh,” she sounded surprised. All the doubt about my body came flooding back and it was difficult to get out of that head-space. I did do some actual nudes, but was so filled with self-doubt at this point, they will never be seen by anyone but me.
By 11:30 p.m., we were wrapping it up, finally getting some implied nudes I can be happy about. I’m not happy that I didn’t get a nude shot I liked, but hey, that gives me a goal for the future… with a male photographer.
All in all, it was a great 40th birthday that began with amazing orgasms in my bed (see picture at the top of this post), and ended with important insights into myself, my self, my body, and why I should never allow media, culture, or other people to affect my perception of my body or anything else about me.
Aroused and shutter-bugging,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s DailyOJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 09-04-12: Prostate Stealth O’s, Weird Energy, & Storms
I had felt a weird buzzy energy all day — all week, actually. The hurricane had not really broken up once it hit land as it was supposed to. Instead, Isaac is heading south, back toward the Gulf. We really don’t need this thing to re-form as a hurricane. But the energy in the air is absolutely electric. And that part, I love. I feed off storm energy — odd since storms are more associated with water, and I am a Fire spirit. But lightning is Nature’s fire, so I am acutely aware of the electricity in the air.
I had just re-started my journey August 8th, gotten some great sessions in, and then Hurricane Isaac forced school closures for a week which tied in with the Labor Day holiday. But, now I’m back to being alone and able to continue this journey… until the next unforeseeable interruption… Grrrr…
With the energy, I truly felt electric. I couldn’t sit still. I just wanted to walk outside, play in the rain, the deluge outside, revel in the energy I had been feeding on for a few weeks. Yet, this constant rain makes me want to sleep. I sleep so amazingly well when it’s raining outside; the steady rhythm calms me regardless of the thunder. This Yin-Yang of energy pulling me toward either extreme at any moment felt like a sexual tension that needed to be rubbed. So I decided to pursue that.
As I began, I had my delicious stealth and spontaneous orgasms (SASO’s). I’ve needed to start with the nipple stim to “tone down” the sensitivity in my breasts, just so I can do some sensual massage with the KSMO and OM touch. I did KSMO for about 4 minutes but my voice started to hurt, so I stopped. I tried some light OM-touch, but that erupted in more SASO’s, so I stopped trying to do anything that was “practice” and just went for some prostate love instead.
My prostate was very receptive to touch, and my vagina was wet from the nipple and OM orgasms. I did some absentminded massage/caresses on my inner thigh and up my torso, wherever my hand wanted to go — I wasn’t really thinking about it. I noted the changes in my prostate as arousal deepened.
I also noticed how much I love the feeling of my breasts. I don’t have anywhere near a “perfect” body, but I honestly love the feel of my body. I especially love the feeling of my breasts, their shape and satiny smooth skin. The underside of the breast has a super concentration of nerve endings, nerves that are connected directly to my clit. The spinning ceiling fan blew drafts of air across my breasts, and the otherwise smooth areolas puckered up like they’d been dipped in ice water as my nipple tips grew dark pink and strained upward. I noticed I didn’t feel a zing of energy to my clit. I figured my prostate was overwhelming the nerve switchboard in my brain, so I just enjoyed the exquisite feel of the sensitive skin of my breasts and my puckered tips.
Feeling all lovey-dovey about my body, I figured I might as well do a hands-on blended set of O’s to get started before moving on to Sparkles for the main attraction. And yet, several minutes in to it, I wasn’t increasing arousal in the clit area. My prostate was getting very aroused and wet, but I felt almost nothing as I did circles with my clit. This went on a few minutes more, and I exclaimed (in my head), “What the hell’s wrong with my clit?!!”
That about put me in an observationist panic. Not only was I not allowing and receiving the arousal process, but for some reason, I had become attached to the outcome. Non-attachment was on coffee-break while the Yang energy was rearing its competitive head. I had worked so hard to become more Yin, to release the go-getter aspect of Yang energy. And I wrote not too long ago that I was worried my sessions were going so swimmingly, they were becoming mechanical. Well, obviously NOT!
I was more frustrated with myself for “blaming” my clit for not doing whatever I preconceived she was supposed to do than I was upset that my prostate was aroused and my clit wasn’t. I let off my clit and moved my right hand to my breast. I was not “going” for a prostate orgasm — those take forever. In the old days, a G-spot/vaginal-only orgasm would take a minimum of an hour and sometimes up to 90 minutes to achieve. Exhausting! I didn’t have that kind of time, and frankly, I wasn’t looking for that much of a cardio endurance workout.
After just a few strokes inside on my prostate and a couple barely-there touches on my nipple tip, I had a SASO/prostate/She Spot orgasm that hit like a Kundalini orgasm with all the full-body waves of a 90 minute prostate pumping marathon. It was shockingly powerful and utterly delicious! My back arched uncontrollably, my legs came up as I would expect with a K-orgasm, but this was deeper and even more full — because of the prostate involvement.
I lay there afterward rather speechless and trying to process all the feelings in my body. It was incredible. I felt the after-O’s, my hips were still moving, my abs still contracting, my breathing took a while to return to normal.
Then I disappointed myself by reaching for Sparkles. The disappointment was that I wasn’t going to use Sparkles in a beautiful moment to see what there was to feel. I knew ahead of time, this was about my clit, and I had to make sure I wasn’t “broken.” I stopped using vibration to induce orgasm almost two years ago due to numbness in my clit — that took over 6 months to begin to feel sensation again. I was terrified something was wrong — that the start, stop, start, stop of my practice was interfering with my progress so dramatically my clit had had enough and wanted no part of it. (NO!!!)
Long story short, Sparkles worked his magick on my prostate while I found a groove with my clit, and the ensuing orgasms were intense and induced the standard emotion. However mechanical my process and the resulting orgasms and emotion had seemed to become, they are gold standards now, and anything other than amazing orgasmic highs now sends me into a panic that something’s wrong with me… clearly, I have cobwebs in my mental attic that need addressing. Could use a can of Mindfuzz-B-Gone… if it existed. No, I’ll have to process this the old-fashioned way. One orgasmic session at a time.
Aroused and regressing (Grrrrrr…),
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s DailyOJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
OpEd: The Face of Orgasm: Is Your Woman Faking Orgasms or Not?
Copyright 2012 by Trish Causey. All Rights Reserved.
It’s been said that every woman fakes orgasms at some point. Well, I’m here to tell you I never did. Never. I never had an orgasm during partnered sex, and I sure wasn’t going to fake it. I made sure the guy knew I wasn’t seeing god, or cosmic rainbows, or magickal unicorns just because his penis was inside me. He could deal with his ego later.
Recently, I read a particular, highly recommended book on cunnilingus but had a difficult time finishing it. The anatomic information was mostly good, but the male writer’s anecdotes about female orgasm were peppered with sexist, rude, even misogynist remarks I simply could not overlook. Having admitted that he was bad at sex and suffered with erectile issues, the author made the egregious comment that screamers and women who throw their heads back are “obvious” orgasm fakers.
I wanted to throw the book across the room, but unfortunately, I was at a restaurant. (Yes, I read sex books while eating… lunch.)
Women are complex creatures and are, thusly, capable of complex, varied types of orgasms. It only makes sense that the body and the face would have different corresponding reactions. Yes, I said body. Were you only watching her face?
For a traditional clitoral orgasm, the orgasm is localized to the clit/genital area. The woman’s torso will most likely crunch forward. The hips/pelvis will tuck or raise up off the bed. Her face will similarly be “crunched” into a look she wouldn’t really want to make otherwise: furrowed brow, gritting the teeth, even jutting the jaw forward. (I could go into my theory on why this is but I would have to bore you with vocal science and the pedagogy of phonation.)
A vaginal/She Spot orgasm tends to be a full-body wave type of orgasm that washes over the body but lacks the explosion of the clitoral orgasm. The woman’s mouth will be open, the jaw down and back, and she may moan differently because of it. Her head may tilt backward, and she may even arch her back. Please note the vagina has numerous spots capable of various kinds of pleasure and responses.
A blended orgasm that stems from both clitoral and vaginal/She Spot simulation is one of the most sought after orgasms because of its full-body wave effect coupled with the clit explosion. This orgasm can induce both crunching forward and wild hip motions, plus arching backward, head back, and delicious moaning.
Other types of orgasms include nipple O’s, cervical O’s, orgasms of the P-spot, the K-spot, the perineal sponge, urethral/urination orgasms, anal O’s, and anywhere else on the body that she is super sensitive to touch.
Of all the physically-based orgasms, the most intense, for me, personally, is the uterine orgasm. The uterine orgasm is brought on by stimulation of the cervix and A-Spot, coincidentally stimulating the prostate/She Spot at the same time. This results in a compulsory doubling over and emotional outburst — a true gut-wrenching thrashing usually accompanied by uncontrollable crying. Not pretty crying either. So the face of this orgasm is kind of like a nervous breakdown — a bit unnerving for onlookers but soul-shatteringly amazing to experience.
These signs are for physically-based orgasms that most people can do without much effort. Use plenty of lube, work the spots, communicate — not very difficult. However, energy-based orgasms cause the body to twist and contort in ways unimaginable.
Kundalini orgasms are known for inducing a sharp, sudden, involuntary arching of the back, in both women and men. While some men consider arching the back to be a “woman’s” type of orgasm, I like to think of this phenomenon as a “human being’s” orgasmic response. For Kundalini orgasms, the mouth may be wide open, deep moans being heard, while the head is bent so far back, you might think the woman is going into a gymnast’s backbend. All of this is involuntary. (And pretty frickin’ incredible!)
So what is the face of a woman who is having real orgasms? Not something she’d want posted in the church’s Sunday bulletin, that’s for sure. If the woman can, in any way, be considered to look “pretty,” she’s not having a real orgasm.
If she is crunching forward and her face looks as if she is somewhere between “really pissed off” and “warrior queen about to rip your limbs from your body,” then she’s probably having a real orgasm. If her head is back, her mouth open, and her brow slightly to fully furrowed, that’s a great sign of a real orgasm as well. When her arms fly up over her head, don’t be offended! This doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to hold on to you. Especially if her hands wind up behind her head, this is a great sign of a deep, powerful orgasm. (If you’ve read my DailyOJ, you know I can vouch for this effect.)
Her eyes may be open during clitoral orgasms, but for most other types of orgasms, her eyes will probably be closed. For myself, I’ve noticed my eyes shoot open at the onset of blended orgasms but then immediately close again through the rest of the climax/multiple orgasms. For Kundalini orgasms, my eyes are closed, head is all the way back, hands fly up over my head, and my body rocks-and-rolls side to side while my knees come up, then my legs kick out over and over again. (Just sayin’.)
Other indicators of real orgasm are legs shaking and toes/feet curling inward, energy zings down the legs, rapid breathing, and even female ejaculation.
You decide: Which one is faking and which one is real?
Along with the facial contortions or the gaping jaw and arching back, her skin will become flush due to increased blood flow, her nipples may be so perky they’re reaching for the ceiling, and her hips (hell, most of her body) will be moving involuntarily. For energy orgasms, she will probably be rockin’-and-rollin’ side to side with extra contractions and rolling through her abdominals, not just crunching forward or arching backward as during physical orgasms.
If she can speak in complete sentences, or is constantly reassuring your ego, she might be faking for your benefit. If her words are incoherent and grabbing at you is her only primal form of communication, then you might be on the right track — to helping her orgasm.
More importantly, don’t be so visual. This isn’t porn. This is a real, live woman. You need to feel her reactions. When a woman is close to orgasm, especially if any clitoral stimulation has been done, the clitoral bulbs that form a “horseshoe” over and around the vaginal opening expand with blood flow, just as the penis expands with blood flow during arousal. This feels like a vice-grip clamping down on your penis.
(Side note: My asshole ex-husband used to tell me he didn’t like the vice-grip feeling because it made him start to lose his erection… so that’s probably why I never orgasmed with him.)
Remember, guys. You cannot “make” a woman orgasm. Orgasm begins and ends in the woman’s mind — not just her brain. Stimulate her mind first and the body will follow suit. In fact, the face and body will tell you everything if your sexual relationship is rooted in honest communication.
What does your face look like in orgasm? Send me a picture, and I just might post it!
trish
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 with KSMO & OM-touch 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 with Sparkles, the SASO’s were exceedingly, surprisingly satisfying. Now able to arch my back, the nipple O’s also made a glorious return.
The OM-touch 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 OM-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 the 20-minute KSMO session, starting in my old-school style — with my nipples. I had worried that starting back with KSMO 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 Sparkles treatment and 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 KSMO 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 its rise from slumber at my root chakra is making its 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
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s DailyOJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
Comment 08-11-12: ‘Aroused Woman’ & Women in Saudi Arabia
So there I was minding my own business gabbing away on Twitter, just posting the countries showing on my stats’ page. I like to tweet where my readers are from because it does my heart proud to know that not just horny Americans are ogling my wares.
Today included readers from India, Taiwan, and Saudi Arabia. Taiwan is a new reader for ArousedWoman, but Saudi Arabia has been a frequent reader to the blog. With all the tension over whether or not Saudi women would be allowed to participate in the Summer Olympics, I’m thrilled to have Saudi Arabian readers!
One of my tweeps then tweeted me and made the following comments about women in Saudi Arabia reading my blog. Of course, I don’t know if it’s actually Saudi women reading — how awesome would it be for loving Saudi men to be reading all this, also?!
Days like this are great reminders of why I do this blog.
trish
DailyOJ 08-11-12 & 08-12-12: The Times in Between, Full-Body Wave-gasms, & Urination Orgasms
“Nude Sitting Up,” by Chagall, 1908
Waking up Saturday morning, I was in severe pain. Pain I had not felt in a while. Sunday morning brought the same, if not worse, pain in my back and neck. How bad was it, you ask? Let’s just say that Saturday and Sunday mornings were the first time in over a year I didn’t start my day by touching my breasts or my genitals. Yeah. That bad.
So not being alone at home, I did not do KSMO or Sparkles. With the pain I was feeling, I didn’t think my back could take the sudden back arches of O’s brought on by OM touch or nipple stimulation. But the weekend was not entirely uneventful. I had known I would not be doing KSMO over the weekend, so I had allowed for these two days to be “see what happens” days, the days in between KSMO sessions when the new energy patterns that were triggered in the session start to make their appearance — hence the reason Jack recommends not KSMO-ing on consecutive days.
Throughout the day, both Saturday and Sunday, I felt familiar zings of energy up my legs every now and then while working at my desk. Because it was localized to my legs, I wouldn’t call it a full deskgasm. And yet, because I know what these energies are, what they feel like, and I have an idea what they will lead to, I am very excited by their activity even though they seem small. When first experiencing these energies, it can be difficult to notice them for what they are or to appreciate them for what they actually mean. This is an encore sojourn through KSMO for me, so I recognize the signals. I’m not worried or wondering if I’m doing it right or feeling disappointed that they weren’t bigger, bolder, or more obvious.
In the shower Saturday night, doing my nightly finger check, my prostate gave another slight “hello.” After a few pulses, I checked the fluid, and again, it smelled sweet but was very thick. I had already made the mental note to drink more water that day, so I was hoping I’d see some improvement by Sunday. However, I had inadvertently eaten an Asian dish with MSG (monosodium glutamate) and was having swelling in my legs and ankles. I drank extra water to help flush it out of my system. Also, I should note, I am making sure to take my fish oil every day as well as chocolate.
Sunday had similar energy swooshes up the leg and a scalpgasm — maybe two. I even had a full-body wave-gasm — the energy starts in my feet, zooms up my left leg, around my torso, up my back, and curves around my head into a scalpgasm and ends at tickling my face, followed by a full-body shudder, a zing in the genitals, and goosebumps on my arms. Oh, and this was at my desk, so this qualifies as a deskgasm (to me).
But what really got my heart racing in a great big “We’re on our way!” thrill was the urination orgasm I had Sunday afternoon. The prostate wraps around the urethra in the female as it does in the male. Rubbing the female prostate during sex, a woman can suddenly have that feeling of needing to go to the bathroom. But if she knows her bladder is empty, she shouldn’t tense up but rather push out and get to know and enjoy(!) those full-body ripples of pleasure that can occur from prostate play. This same effect can be achieved while urinating — if the prostate is aroused or full of fluid, the rush of urine through the urethra — which stimulates the prostate — can trigger delicious O’s… or… U’s. 
Sunday night, in the shower, I let the hot water hit my back for a while to help relax whatever muscles in my back or neck were still so tense. It was 1:30 a.m. I should have been in bed hours before since it was a school night, but I just didn’t want to sleep. My body was tired, but my brain was wide awake. Standing there, I massaged my hips through my glutes since I’d been having some recurring sciatica pain in recent weeks. I couldn’t help but brush a finger along the upper part of my butt cleavage, which months before, I had accidentally discovered to be a very sensitive erogenous zone. Moving my middle finger lower, I hit the K-spot, which is at the tip of the coccyx bone just above the anus. I got zapped with an energy wave straight up my spine to my scalp. So, yeah… I kept doing that for a couple minutes.
On the whole, this is all very encouraging. Starting back with KSMO on Wednesday, I was very happy with the progress I was already experiencing as of Sunday night. With the re-awakening of my prostate and my K-spot, the energy flowing again, the deskgasm and full-body-gasm, I am very optimistic in terms of my orgasmic development. I had a teary moment (furball) that came up Sunday afternoon — another impromptu pity party of my general inadequacy in life, career, and love. So I’m soul-searching into that. Again, I think I know what it is. I’ll write more on that when I have more information to share. I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels similarly.
Aroused and zinging,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 08-09-12: The Return of the Tingles
In similar fashion to the return of my afternoon delights yesterday, I had yet another KSMO session and a date with Sparkles, my purple silicone boyfriend. This was concurrent to yesterday’s session, which Jack does not recommend for newbies. However, I attained Adept status a couple months ago (apparently), so I kinda get to do what I want. (Neener-neener.)
I had already decided I was going to do back-to-back days about a month ago — the longing to be free again had been so poignant and clear. (“Man, I just need to be fucked already — and SOON!”) I had been feeling the almost overwhelming need — craving — to experience that wild, bed-frolicking, hip-rollicking abandon of insatiable passion and out-of-body orgasms that I had glimpsed in the Fall and Spring. I knew I couldn’t gain it all back overnight, but I figured a few back-to-back sessions wouldn’t do any harm, especially since the weekend is right here, and I’d be back on the wagon. (Sigh.)
Essentially, today’s session was much like yesterday’s. I laid in bed an hour in some stupidly ridiculous bliss of just being okay laying in bed being stupidly ridiculously blissful. My mind wandered. That was okay. I stealth O’d. That was fabulous. When I was ready for KSMO, I did KSMO. I felt some tingles which were a good sign, but I didn’t try to make anything happen. I finished the session, fucked Sparkles, cried, lather, rinse, repeat.
Okay…. Here’s where it got interesting. In the time afterward, I was paying attention to my body — what I was feeling, where, and how; what I felt emotionally, mentally, intellectually about what I was feeling physically, energetically, spiritually.
I noticed the crying afterward had been delayed by a couple minutes. This felt strange not to be immediately emotional. The orgasms felt good. What was the problem? I remembered this happened yesterday, too, and I felt the same conflicted response to the quasi-ambivalent emotion. The crying happened, and when it did, the feelings I felt were not just caused by the stimulation of my A-spot to induce the emotional uterine orgasm (that sounds so mechanical). What I felt were feelings of emotion that were tied to insecurities and uncertainties about finding a partner: why would any man want to be with me, why would a man love me, what did I have to offer? I had no answers, so I cried some more. I was too involved in the unexpected pity party to pay attention to whatever might have been happening physiologically in my genitals. I can only assume my body went through its usual after-O’s. But I don’t know for sure.
As the emotion slowed to a trickle, I noticed energy on my left side, up my leg and into my torso. I then felt energy collect in the ball of my left foot and shoot out from there. I have felt this before, and the image that comes to mind is the end of the animated film, The Beauty and the Beast. During his change from “The Beast” back to a “Man,” a ray of “light” bursts out of his feet and hands. That is what it feels like — a sudden gathering of energy that shoots out in a ray of light energy explosion… (except my feet aren’t hairy like the Beast’s. Just sayin’.)
Another unexpected sensation occurred while I was laying there feeling my feelings — the emotional ones as well as the physical sensations. My eyes were closed, but my attention was drawn to my hands. If my hands aren’t over my head, they are usually resting on my torso at my bottom rib/waistline area. I lay like this so my upper arms can support the weight of my breasts. I thought my hands were in the air, but I didn’t remember telling them to move. I opened my eyes and looked down. My arms were still by my sides, my hands still on my waist. But it felt like my hands were in mid-air, but heavy, like they were trying to pull away from me, or pull me up. I have felt similar “pulling” sensations when I experienced heartgasms — it felt like my inner me was trying desperately to separate from my body when I was wide awake — this happened for almost two weeks!
The rest of the day, I felt the odd tingle here and there, nothing major nor localized for too long in any one spot. (Wow, just got a zap of energy through my right outer labia just remembering that. Cool.) I didn’t have any single tingle strong enough or long enough for it to register as a particular -gasm, i.e., scalpgasm, leg-gasm, deskgasm, etc. I could feel the beginnings of the beginnings of awakening, the stirrings before the actual stirrings begin. So I know the bamboo has been growing under the surface and will burst through soon. Time is the only water it needs…. Dammit.
Aroused and tingling,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
Comments 08-10-12: Reasons to Read ‘Aroused Woman’
Not all the tweeting is serious. On Twitter, I’m as openly sex-positive and frankly honest about sex and female genitalia as I am about tweeting my bleeding heart, progressive stance on human rights.
From OM to KSMO to my personal experiences I recount in my DailyOJ, AW is gaining more readers and more Twitter followers every single day. Readers are writing in to tell me how reading this blog has helped them, and even men have reported new kinds of orgasms because they implemented some of my advice.
Below are a few examples of how Aroused Woman is making awesome changes in people’s sex lives and relationships. And I am so very honored to be a part of it.
Enjoy!
trish
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Comment 07-28-12: Reading ‘Aroused Woman’ Caused a Soulgasm
As word is spreading about Aroused Woman, readers are taking my personal experiences to heart (and clit, and vagina, and prostate…).
I love hearing from my readers, and here is an example of a great surprise comment I received over Twitter. It wasn’t necessarily the woman who experienced a change from her husband reading my blog — he did!
Fabulous!
trish
Clit Stimulation: What’s In It for Men?
Since discovering OM (Orgasmic Meditation), one of my biggest questions has been “Why would a man want to do OM?” If the OM touch is all about the guy stroking my clit for 15 minutes, what does he get out of it? Why would he want to focus is on my clit while his clothes are still on?
The OM team has finally addressed this — seems they get this question a lot. A group of men talks about their experiences as OM-ers — men who actually enjoy focusing on a woman’s clit for 15 minutes. They talk on a range of topics from the male perspective of sex, the male ego, overcoming male uncertainty of women’s bodies, and dropping cultural bullshit men adopt just to be perceived as masculine in our society.
They talk about:
- Dropping the competitive nature of their relationship with a woman.
- Sex becoming goal-less.
- Enjoying the moment, not planning the sexual experience — map-less.
- Getting their pride out of the way.
- Gaining a better connection to their partner.
- Being more confident in sex and the relationship.
- Sex lasting for hours.
Please watch this video, then click the button on the right to check out the OM website.
Happy OM-ing!
trish
OpEd: Fucking Cherokee Men (and Other People of Color)
As a kid in Mississippi, the Native culture was all around. State law requires 5th graders to take a year of Mississippi history, and high school students have to take at least one semester of Mississippi history to get their high school diploma. I’ve been very fortunate to have several mentors who literally changed my life, and the irony that most of them were American Indian has not been lost on me.
When I entered Catholic schools in 4th grade, I discovered just how cruel the elitist class could be. Because of my fair skin, I was called “albino.” Because my hair was a weird strawberry-blonde color and my eyes were blue-green, I was called “mutant.” Add in my freckles and the gap in my front teeth, I was a treasure trove of reasons for the rich kids to ridicule me.
This was also around the time the movie E.T. came out. So playing on the mutant/alien theme, I would hear, “Hey, E.T., here’s a quarter, why don’t you phone home? ‘Cause we don’t want you here!” … or … “Hey, E.T. Guess you’re here ’cause your alien family didn’t want you either.”
When I hit puberty, I was suddenly taller than everyone, and I grew breasts and hips, making me wider than everyone else, too. The kids took my first name, Patricia, and renamed me “Fatty Patty.” I was not overweight, but reality did not matter. When we studied World War II and learned about the Japanese suicide bombers, the Kamikaze, the bullies at school then took my last name, Causey, and used it in taunts: “Hey, Kami-Causey, you’re so ugly, why don’t you go fly a plane and kill yourself?!” … or… “Hey, Kami-Causey, you’re so fat, why don’t you go fly a plane — oh, wait, you’re so fat, the plane wouldn’t get off the ground.”
The “in” look of the late 1970′s and early 1980′s, as portrayed by models like Cheryl Tiegs and Christie Brinkley, was the Midwestern tall, thin, tan stereotype. I certainly didn’t fit the bill. Except for my grandmother, I was the shortest female in my family. I was 5-foot-6. In my Scotch-Irish family, the women were Amazons and the men were tree trunks. I was short — for my family.
Somewhere in these formative years, I developed a liking for men who were tall, dark, and handsome… or at least tall and dark. Maybe it was a matter of “opposites attract,” or maybe I just had too many years of being made to feel worthless because of the way I looked. Maybe it was the cultural and media conditioning of Disney movies where the “Prince” is usually tall and dark. Or perhaps it is just a cruel fact of nature that blonde men are stupid… and arrogant… On a side note, I hope a blonde man will prove me wrong one day. Also, I prefer brunette women, but sex with a redhead would just be redundant.
I support colorblind casting in theatre. Everyone should be given a chance regardless of what they look like. And I’ve always felt that reverse discrimination is still discrimination. Isn’t discriminating for just as bad as discriminating against? And yet, growing up in the elitist world of private schools and the fine arts, having “discriminating tastes” was a sign of being well-bred and “cultured.” Looking back, I can see now why some people were shocked that my best friends in (Catholic) high school were a Jewish girl, a black guy, and a short, overweight girl who ate Wendy’s burgers to curb her sexual fetishes… and then there were all my gay theatre friends…
When I was 17, an American Indian ballet dancer pointed me in the direction of my Irish heritage. It was amazing to finally be connected with people who looked like me! And learning about the pre-Christian traditions of the Gaelic people was life-changing for me. But meeting him — this gorgeous, tall, gorgeous, dark, exotic, gorgeous, NDN male ballet dancer who exuded virile masculinity even though he wore tights on his gorgeous muscular legs and his gorgeous buns of steel… Sorry… I digress… Meeting him opened my eyes to men other than the WASPs and redneck assholes I’d met so far.
Participating in an international theatre competition in South Korea at age 21, I fell in love with the Korean people, and my eyes were opened to the beauty of Asian men. (Yes, I now watch “Hawaii Five-0″ for Daniel Dae Kim. I could totally fuck his cheekbones!) And yet, I have a fondness in my heart (and in my loins) for the Black Irish and Black Scots like Pierce Brosnan and Sean Connery, respectively. Years ago, I developed a fascination with India and all things Hindu, so those dudes are most definitely on my vagina’s radar. A sure sign of progress, television now offers a beautiful rainbow of men to ogle, thanks to diversity casting (albeit for still somewhat stereotypical roles). And truth be told, being a white chick from Mississippi, I just assume no black guy would want to be with me, so no, I haven’t bothered in that department (doesn’t mean I wouldn’t if I got the chance, though! Call me.).
However, the idea of purposely choosing a partner for the way he or she looks — or for his or her ethnicity — didn’t enter my awareness until a conversation I had while working with a ballet seamstress of Cherokee and Choctaw blood.
Studying ancient cultures and other peoples of the world, I found that most of the world has black hair and brown eyes, while reddish hair and blue-green eyes really are the results of mutant genes…. Oh, well…. The good news was that lusting after dark men isn’t really discriminating for that “look.” Choosing a man with dark coloring is actually just the law of averages at play. So then choosing a mate really comes down to penis size.
(Just kidding. Still reading?)
Joanne, the Cherokee/Choctaw master seamstress, and I worked on the costumes for an upcoming production of The Nutcracker. I think she was bedazzling a Sugar Plum Fairy costume — except she was doing it old school, hand-sewing each cabochon rhinestone and sequin by hand. Meanwhile, I was put in charge of working on the Mouse King’s giant chicken-wire and shag carpet-covered head. As a woman in her 60′s, working with the carpet materials was too much for her hands.
She would often reminisce about previous ballet competitions and the former great dancers. She would also talk about being from the reservation here in Mississippi and being poor. At this time in her life, Joanne was looking forward to marrying her second husband, and I noticed she would often talk about her first husband from many years prior, the father of her children, who were now grown. Knowing that she needed to vent, I let her. I loved her dearly as a friend and mentor. She was a prolific articulator of the words “fuck” and “asshole.” I loved her even more for it.
Working in complete silence, Joanne suddenly started the conversation that inspired this post…
“He was a mean asshole.”
I thought she was talking about the Artistic Director. “Fernando?!”
“No, my first husband… He was a mean asshole.”
“Why?” I asked.
“He was a full-blood Cherokee and cantankerous as all get out…. Yep. He was an asshole.”
Silence. Several minutes passed.
“When he would drink was when it was the worst,” she continued. “He’d start some stupid shit just to start an argument. And he seemed to forget I’m Cherokee and Choctaw. And an Indian woman doesn’t put up with an Indian man’s bullshit. Fuck that!”
In complete naivete, I inquired, “Joanne, why on earth would you stay with someone like that?”
She looked off into the distance, “He was only like that when he drank too much. But when he was sober, he could fuck like nobody’s business!”
“Joanne!”
“It’s true. He didn’t realize I let him have his drunk rampages ’cause I knew the fuckin’ we’d be doing when he was sober and sorry about it.” She looked me square in the eye. “If you ever get the chance to fuck a Cherokee man, do it! You won’t regret it! Best fuckers out there!”
“Joanne!” I exclaimed, still incredulous. “Isn’t that racist?! “
“It would be, if I were talking about his skin… But I’m talking about his dick. And Cherokee men can fuck like nobody’s business.”
So ……………… um …………………….. Any Cherokee men out there???
Aroused and heading for the stomping grounds,
trish
Related articles:
- OpEd: Wounded Knee 1890 – U.S. Still Wages #WarOnWomen
- Anatomy: Female Ejaculation and Woman’s Ability to Conceive
- AskTrish: Stop Ejaculating and Have Multiple Orgasms Already
- OpEd: Want Me to Talk Dirty? Bite Me.
Links:
DailyOJ 06-13-12: Great Expectations
I got a surprise few days off from motherhood duties this week, and it afforded me some much-needed quality time with my lady’s loins. It’s not that I can’t spend time with them — I do, but not like I really want to with my loud exclamations of pleasure. My orgasms have been in stealth mode, and I’ve been trying to incorporate the stunning energy from a couple of weeks ago — when I was having the spontaneous O’s — with my everyday-pretend-to-be-a-normal-person-and-not-a-sexually-charged-wild-woman charade.
Having to adopt the “responsible mom” persona that is expected of me really puts a damper on that energy, though I discovered that underneath my walls I must put up for polite society, the energy is still very much there, bubbling and brewing well beneath the surface, but still reachable whenever I want it.
With the apartment empty and my downstairs neighbor on vacation, I decided it was time to bring out the purple vibe (sans batteries) and just go for a good ol’ loud session. I noticed that the sensations during arousal were not localized to the genitals but felt more “full” or “filling” throughout the lower abdominal/pelvic area. My abs have started going crazy during arousal and climaxing, but my legs are not shaking. And during the nipple stim/OM orgasms, I invariably turn toward my left side, so I’m assuming this is all more integration of techniques and energy.
The orgasms with the toy were different though. As I wrote earlier, the spontaneous orgasms were “blunt,” and the arousal and orgasms with the toy were, for lack of a better word, blunt. They were “through” me — no clitoral explosion, just riding the wave up, up, up, as it crested, then floating there in the orgasms, and riding it back down. Still delicious, just different.
The orgasms were emotional — I love this kind. This is why I use the toy, to reach the A-spot to trigger the uterine orgasm that is so very deep and personal and emotional. These orgasms now feel… thorough… like I’ve experienced every feeling imaginable from wanting and horniness, to arousal and raising of energy, through the orgasms, into the emotional recesses of my mind and heart and the deep, inner, primal response of my body, to the throbbing denouement of smaller orgasms, and finally into the blissful purring of satiation.
I feel a little disappointed when I don’t experience this full cycle — the emotion has become very important to my sense of sexual self. Maybe it’s just that time of life because I have been emotional during the day and occasionally at night as I work through things while I face this fork in the road.
Using the toy, my average time from start to finish is about 8 minutes, though I’ve clocked in at 6 minutes a few times, and will go 9 to 11 minutes if I’m being leisurely about it. I’m always surprised by the length of time it actually takes because while it’s happening it seems much longer. In fact, sometimes, I get into some mind noise thinking, “If I were with a guy right now, he’d be getting annoyed this was taking so long.” So then I feel pressure on myself to hurry up and make it happen.
Even though I’m not with a partner right now, I sometimes approach all of this like an athlete in training for the orgasm Olympics. I want to be ready when this dude enters my life. And taking 11 “whole” minutes to climax just might disqualify me from making the final round…
Of course, I’m only half kidding, here. Any man who wouldn’t give me 11 minutes start to finish is not worth my time and energy. And since I will require breast worship and sensual massage and other goodies first, if he’s impatient, he’ll get his ass bounced out the door. And yet, I do get the occasional mind fuzz. “If I take too long, he’ll get bored.” He might get bored anyway since all the good stuff is happening inside where he can’t see… until right before and through the orgasms when it’s rocking and rolling time.
Expectation is the opposite of non-attachment and rooted in competition, adrenaline, yang, testosterone aspects that I’m trying to move out of. I guess this is just another sign that I am a work in progress, as is my sexual awakening.
Aroused and trying to be more yin,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
DailyOJ 05-26-12, Part 1: Spontaneous Full-Body Kundalini Orgasms
So to fill in… As I wrote in the DailyOJ for 05-21-12, that was a KSMO day, and it was grande! Today was also my only KSMO session this week (or since!). My schedule has been totally weird, as you’ll soon read.
After a 2 month break from KSMO, I had returned to the 20-minute protocol about twice per week, trying to get in as many KSMO practices and my usual loud solo sex sessions as I could before I was no longer home by myself during the days. (School would soon be out for summer, but with my daughter on a week-long trip, I had the house to myself 24/7!!)
Since beginning with OM explorations — which is also a “turn it down a notch to turn it ON and WAY UP” practice specifically for women, I have incorporated OM touch into my KSMO practice… To splendiferous effect!
So back to this week’s experiences…
Today, I began the 20-minute KSMO session. A few Key Sounds into it, I decided to use the OM touch for my caress — thinking it’s such a small, barely there touch, it’s okay because it’s not “stimulating” in the usual sense. Man, was I wrong! After 2 OM flicks, I full body orgasmed during my KSMO session. I didn’t mean to, honest! Having an orgasm during the 20-minute KSMO or the 15-minute OM practice is not the intent of these re-wiring methods. (Orgasms are for actual solo/partner sex.) Both OM and KSMO seem to re-wire the body on a much deeper level than the superficial jerking/frigging off the genitals way most people learn to masturbate (and then bring into their partnered sex life).
But without warning or intention, I did orgasm. I had a full-body O right then at the beginning of the session, all head-thrown-back, spine-arched, toes-curled, Kundalini style. I finished the KSMO part (about 18 minutes), and then did my solo thang. (Which was amazing.)
Since then — all week, I have experienced spontaneous O’s at all times of the day, evening, night. I can think, “That was a great orgasm earlier,” and BOOM! A full-body orgasm hits. And often, I don’t even have to think that — it just happens.
The slightest brush of my nipples — I mean, not really touching, the barest of bare caresses with the tips of my fingertips — and I’m in kundalini O’s…. okay… I’m higher griping… but thank the gods I work from home. These deskgasms are too good to pass up.
My body is so re-wired now that she is hyper-sensitive to even the air going across from the ceiling fan. Orgasms spontaneously erupt. I even started having these full-body O’s from the fan’s air current across my breasts. I have been staying in bed till 1 and 2 in the afternoon enjoying this. And I can keep it going for hours. The feelings are indescribable. (But I’ll try.)
The orgasms are like a rush of an energy wave through my body — not exactly starting in my feet or my genitals, it happens so fast and is so thorough, I practically feel it everywhere at once, but the waves keep hitting and expanding outward in all directions. My lower abs have been going crazy during these orgasms — though my only ab work is during sex. The puckering in my areolas is so strong, my nipples feel like they’re pulling my body up off the bed. My body is contorted in all directions — no,this doesn’t hurt. Feels incredible, actually.
As I’ve explained in other blog post(s), it’s not the same as orgasms that are hands-on the genitals — these are different, but O so powerful! And talk about “less” stimulation needed — try practically NONE! I am SO glad I threw my vibrator in the dumpster. I would have never experienced any of this while my body was deadened to the media/porn culture’s lies about needing vibration for “better,” “stronger” orgasms. Bullshit! (I encourage every woman to put the vibe down, and go off the battery band wagon!)
What’s “disturbed” me in yet another “higher gripe” way is that when I enter my vagina to stimulate my prostate — which has all the bells and whistles of arousal going, I don’t stay there. WHAT?! I know! ME?! NOT playing in Prostate Town?
I’ve been going back to the 1 or 2 barely there OM/clit strokes or letting the air on my breasts, and the O’s hit. However many I want in succession. And I feel satisfied. I don’t need to go for an all-hands-on-deck sporting event. (Though, those ARE fun!) Feeling “satisfied” is not a feeling I have much experience with sexually or in life — I have always had yearnings of bigger, better things. Feeling “satisfaction” is new and yet profound of many levels.
In talking with Jack, the discoverer of KSMO, I asked him “Okay, so, what do I do now?”
Essentially, he said I was now an “Adept.” (No, the title does not come with a gold watch.) But I am now completely free to explore the energy and sensations as I choose — which is good because I kind of always did what I wanted to anyway. I know — what a shock.
I was concerned because these O’s I’m having don’t have the hot/explosion that others describe — the Big Bang I experience happens very suddenly and very strong and is “blunt” not “sharp” as I associate the other Adepts’ big orgasms. Mine are powerful, but it feels like I own the power. Even as I am learning about my body’s orgasmic capabilities and even though I’m in the non-attachment mindset, I am in control. It’s not like I’m at its mercy. Which I think was my fear last Fall when my prostate awakened, and it was SO very powerful it kind of freaked me out. Being totally willing to die in orgasm kinda resets your priorities — especially as a parent.
Jack suggested I just breathe and in-joy. (He likes to re-interpret words we use every day so we see them in a new light… It’s pretty cool, actually.) He also mentioned that I might allow more of the inner quiet to resonate — to see what I can learn from it. I am so much better now about not letting the mind noise interfere. I can tell it is making a difference to let my body lead the experience — like when I kept stopping stimulation during a solo session, and I have no idea why, but the results were astounding, so I’ve kept that bit in my “routine.”
* Read Part 2 here. *
Aroused and spontaneously combusting,
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily O.J.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
What Has ‘Aroused Woman’ Inspired YOU to Try?
C’mon, ladies and gents!
Time to spill the beans. I’d love to know if anything here on Aroused Woman has inspired YOU to take better care of your self (yes, that was spaced, your self).
I am still smiling over the comment left by one reader whose girlfriend noticed a change in their lovemaking after he read some of my posts here on AW.
Feel free to leave a comment on this post — either a brief mention or detailed comment on how AW has helped you get in touch with yourself or your female partner… or if your approach to women and women’s sexuality has been changed in any way. Remember, comments can be left anonymously.
This can be a solo experience, and/or with your partner, or even a “Calgon, take me away!” moment… a change in your energy, an awakening somehow… or maybe you got some ideas from my excerpt I just released on Amazon Kindle (wink!).
Can’t wait to hear from all of you! xoxo
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily OJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
‘Confessions of an Aroused Woman ~ Chapter 6′ Is on Amazon’s Kindle!
Click to go to Amazon.
I am so excited to announce that my first foray into writing erotica is now available via Amazon’s Kindle!
I have published an excerpt, Confessions of an Aroused Woman – Chapter 6
This excerpt, Chapter 6
I hope to have the audiobook of Chapter 6 available by the end of June. So stay tuned for more info on that!
I’m actually very excited! All of my writing has to do with human rights of one kind or another — especially women’s rights and women’s right to equality in being sexual (which is natural and normal!!!). But all my previous writing has been for the stage as a musical, opera, or play. This is my first time being “published.”
And it’s a bit of an experiment with Amazon, so please let me know how it works. And PLEASE leave a review Confessions of an Aroused Woman – Chapter 6
YAY!!!
trish
For more of my personal orgasm journey, read Trish’s Daily OJ.
Visit the AW site: Aroused Woman
OpEd: ‘Male Circumcision Is No Biggie’
Having been an activist for one “bleeding heart” liberal Human Rights issue or another since I was 13, I’ve learned that people who don’t jive with Human Rights fall into one of two categories:
1 – those who are completely unaware of an issue so their apathy is due to ignorance…
and…
2 – those who are aware of the issues but have been drinking the Kool-aid too long to see the rights violations right in front of them…
Or in this case, in their pants.
Last night on Facebook, I updated my status with this:
“My thoughts on FGM & Male Circumcision: Any body modification not fully consented to by the person on whom it is being done is straight up EVIL & being perpetrated by ASSHOLES.”
After yet another exhibition of my Irish gift of being blunt, an interesting discussion followed by friends who, of course, feel similarly. I went on to say:
“Any change to the body is the basic human right of THAT PERSON to make a change to the body. Especially when this isn’t a life-threatening situation. Circumcision in 1st world countries is done out of habit more than educated knowledge that it is a religious act — and since many white Americans proudly claim to be Christian, why the hell do they do this to their babies? (Though I think brainwashing a child in any one religion is also heinous, but that’s another convo.)… Many people do not realize that baby boys die from male circumcision, just as some girls die from FGM. Female Genital Mutilation is the definition of barbaric & misogynist.
“P.S. I refused to cut my daughter’s hair until SHE was ready to have her hair cut. Most people see the hair as dead, but it isn’t — not from a spiritual perspective (and no, I’m not Indian)… I gave [her] her first haircut on her 5th birthday, and her ears were pierced 5 years later. Her body. Her choices.”
One enlightened friend wrote about male circumcision:
“It’s traumatic to babies, it’s dangerous, and so unnecessary. The argument “so he’ll look like his father” makes me want to fight! If Dad was missing a finger, would we chop one of baby’s fingers off too? And then there’s the rampant sexual dysfunction caused by corneated glanses that guys have to beat the crap out of in order to get off.”
Then there was one comment that left me with my jaw hanging open as disgust and dismay ran through my bloodstream.
One commenter wrote:
“FGM is a sin (if you are a believer in such) and a crime against nature, but male circumcision is no biggie. It actually has proponents in the medical field who make good arguments for it.”
While I love it when people agree with me, the only time I can truly create change is when I’ve reached someone whose ideology is different (read: narrow-minded and uneducated). So my response is thus:
- No, I don’t believe in sin. “Sin” is a carefully crafted construct of religious propaganda to steer the masses into doing its bidding, which usually entails keeping the rich, white guys wealthy and in control. (Where have I heard that before?)
- Circumcision IS a “biggie” to the innocent baby on whom this violation is being perpetrated.
- The so-called medical proponents must be operating under the delusion of religious brainwashing, socio-cultural conditioning, or being highly compensated to keep spouting these “medically necessary” lies regarding male circumcision.
Circumcision as we know it is a practice of the Abrahamic religions, namely Judaism and its spin-offs Christianity and Islam. As with many aspects of the Jewish faith, Judaism was heavily influenced by the religious practices and ideologies of Ancient Egypt, which is known to have practiced circumcision on adult men who chose to be circumcised as part of their initiation into the priests’ order.
Because of the spread of these religions outside their indigenous Middle Eastern origins, the brutal practice of shearing the foreskin off a newborn’s penis has gone global. However, not every country under these religious delusions practices male circumcision.
The proponents for male circumcision offer little medical evidence that it is actually “necessary.” Also, I would rather trust the body’s inherent intelligence that it has a foreskin because it serves a purpose — to the boy who will become a man. Granted, I don’t know why we still have an appendix, but I do know why my clitoris has a hood — the same reason the male version of the clit, the glans penis, also has a hood.
Proponents for male circumcision also offer the ridiculous argument that boys want to “look like their father.” Was the father circumcised later in his life when he was old enough to make an educated, informed decision based on his personal preference to have the foreskin removed? Likely not. The father was probably circumcised as an infant as well, without his consent.
Those who say circumcision prevents AIDS and HIV transmission are also not getting the whole picture. Plenty of circumcised men in America have HIV or AIDS. The lack of foreskin didn’t prevent the spread of the sexually transmitted disease. Here’s an article from the University of Oxford regarding medical studies supposedly supporting male circumcision.
Essentially, the issue of male circumcision is one of basic Human Rights, that a person has the basic right to choose what happens to her or his body. No one should be allowed to make such a permanent change to a person’s body without their consent.
Informed consent is crucial because of the medical and sexual ramifications, including permanent physical damage to the penis, the urethra, as well as the psychological repercussions as the child grows up.
What if the government passed a law that all baby boys must have their pinky amputated? Or their left ear? Or their nose? Would you willingly submit your newborn child to this just because the government said to? I doubt it. But parents willingly subject their baby boy to having a part of his anatomy amputated just because of a tradition from a Middle Eastern religion and/or American cultural conditioning?
I absolutely think there should be legislation prohibiting circumcision since there are fanatics who will keep enacting this barbarity on baby boys UNLESS legislation bans circumcision. If someone cut a slice out of my daughter, that act is punishable by law with prison time because it is aggravated assault and endangering the welfare of a minor. But circumcision is okay?! NO!
Others would say that banning circumcision violates the parents’ First Amendment freedom of religion. Then what about the baby’s fundamental First Amendment right to Freedom FROM his parents’ religion — to remain a whole human being?
But I’m a female. What would I know about wanting to preserve a person’s right to choose what happens to their body?
Here are some facts from the wonderful website, IntactAmerica:
- Risks include infection, hemorrhage, scarring, difficulty urinating, loss of part or all of the penis, and even death.
- The amount of skin removed in a typical infant circumcision is the equivalent of 15 square inches in an adult male.
- No professional medical association in the U.S. or anywhere else in the world recommends routine circumcision as medically necessary.
- Most medically advanced nations do not practice child circumcision. Three quarters of the world’s men are intact.
- The foreskin is actually an important and functional body part, protecting the head of the penis from injury and providing moisture and lubrication. Circumcision also diminishes sexual pleasure later in life.
- Claims that circumcision prevents HIV have repeatedly been proven to be exaggerated or false.
- Whatever the rationale, forced removal of healthy genital tissue from any child – male or female – is unethical. Boys have the same right as girls to an intact body, and to be spared this inhumane, unnecessary surgery. (Okay, I threw this one in because of its comparison to Female Genital Mutilation.)
Source: IntactAmerica.org, “The Facts Behind Circumcision”
I can only surmise that the men who are pro-circumcision are circumcised themselves (and the women who are pro-circ have only been with circumcised partners), and the thought of a “different”-looking penis is too weird for them to accept what is natural. Or the circumcised men feel jealous that they might be missing out on sexual pleasure, so they want all men to miss out on sexual pleasure, perpetuating this basic Human Rights violation on these innocent children.
No one can undo the past, so if you’re a man who is circumcised, please don’t feel jealous. Sexual pleasure is an energy, and incredible sexual pleasure can be learned without the need for genital stimulation at all.
Just as women need to speak out for women’s rights, men need to speak out against male circumcision. The voice being heard has to come from the gender being violated. But know, we women are here to support you in ending this heinous practice of non-consensual circumcision just as we know you guys are here to support us in our fight to keep control over our bodies.
Male circumcision IS a “biggie.” Circumcision is a Human Rights violation that scars the male in more ways than just physically. If need be, let’s get Congress to enact legislation to prohibit male circumcision. It is the individual male’s right to choose what happens to his body.
trish
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.
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
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: ALLOWING AND RECEIVING
MyTweets & Comments 08-19-12: “You Want to Milk Your Rape for Sympathy”
With the ridiculous comment from Rep. Todd Akin about “legitimate rape,” all of Twitter was a-buzz with chatter on the subject of rape. Interestingly, the topic which had started out being on abortion had shifted dramatically to rape, and not surprisingly, society once again placing the blame and the shame of rape on the women — the rape victim.
Out of nowhere, this jerk, “Dan,” buts into the civil convo I was having with my friend @sevenlayercake — though we differ in viewpoints, she and I can have amiable conversations. Whenever a Twitter interloper butts in, I check their bio. This guy was supposedly an “outspoken gay professional.” As a loudmouth Scotch-Irisher and theatre pro, I can certainly handle this guy.
I posted the link to my recent article on my rape — something I have never, ever, ever, EVER told the details of to anyone alive or dead on this earth until I wrote this article on it a few days ago. Why? For the very reason, I didn’t think anyone would believe me. And this jackwad says, “You want to milk your rape for sympathy.”
If this guy is “gay,” then he is the most fervently women-hatin’ gay man I’ve ever met. Gay men usually dig women, just not sexually. Being in the theatre, it’s not unusual for a gay man to ask me how I do my lipstick or to borrow my blouse.
So, below, is the conversation and yet another example of how the War on Women exists — and is apparently spreading to the gay men demographic, which I find to be very sad.
In my head, I hear the lyrics to Gloria Gaynor’s anthem:
trish
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August 19, 2012 | Categories: #WarOnWomen, #WhereAreTheWomen, 2012 elections, activism, birth control, comments, male perspective, men, misogyny, MyTweets, planned parenthood, politics, reclaiming sexuality, reproductive rights, sexual abuse, sexual energy, shamanic, stress, women's circles, women's health, women's rights, women's sexuality | 1 Comment »