Moving forward using all my breath

Making love to you was never second best

I saw the world thrashing all around your face

Never really knowing it was always mesh and lace

I’ll stop the world and melt with you

You’ve seen the difference and

It’s getting better all the time

There’s nothing you and I won’t do

I’ll stop the world and melt with you

(Modern English)

Touch is the essence of bonding between lovers. The deepest and most profoundly erotic moments might be the ones we may not realize as such. It might be the way our skin feels against each other’s during sleep, or a kiss along the back of the neck. Their finger hooked into the crook of yours during a walk together. The scent of their skin remaining on the neck of a shirt. It might be more erotic to discover how much your mate loves his or her feet rubbed during a loving foot massage, when you can allow them to fully let go without expectations. Kissing and licking their toes can be highly erotic in such cases, and chances are good that kissing the arch of their foot expands the horizon on foreplay.

Bonding and intimacy are enhanced by caressing, touching and being together. Touch itself  doesn’t need to involve anything more than just the touch of skin together. Eroticism can be found in the familiarity of our lover’s scent, the tone of their voice or their heartbeat to our chest. Eroticism is discovered when we are being present. Being aware of our senses allows us to open to any state of pleasure. Stopping the world to melt together is pure joy. The pleasure of the discovery of each other can be unlimited.

I’ve been reading a few articles on pair bonding— neurobiology has it that we bond through affectionate gestures like any other pair bonding sort of mammals. Caressing, grooming, cooing, sighing, and eye contact keep us together but not the act of sex itself. So in other words, penetration isn’t the main course of sex and bonding, but touch is. Oxytocin, the “love” hormone, is part of this magical state of being.

When oxytocin is released in our brains and bodies, we feel like we are softly melting. We are high on oxytocin. Oxytocin makes us feel contentment, reduces anxiety and increases good feelings around our mate. Studies have shown that oxytocin levels increase after orgasm and are part of sexual arousal. This does not surprise me at all. Each time I was pregnant and ready for birth, nipple stimulation during active childbirth helped the delivery along. Nipple stimulation produces more oxytocin, which is necessary for increasing uterine contractions. Sex is enhanced by oxytocin and so is childbirth. And so is love.

Oxytocin helps us orgasm too.

Brain chemistry alone isn’t enough. We have that mysterious aspect of us that we call the soul. Our souls must feel safe, secure, cared for and, in the words of Thomas Moore from his book The Soul of Sex, “Like everything human, sensation cannot be separated from the imagination.” Our lover’s body, face, scent and touch inspire us to let go and we succumb to the pleasure of love and loving, of being loved and giving love.

Our minds are also  full of all that buzzing and bubbling chemistry and electric neurological magic. Erotic love is a shape-shifter. It comes alive in the imagination. We can imagine anything we want to during sex, about sex. Erotic fantasies are the playground for our deepest desires and lightest whims. If we want to imagine an orgy in which we are the central focus, perhaps that fantasy satisfies something in us that we need or attentions that we require. But fantasy doesn’t have to mean something psychologically deep either. It can just be a fascination with orgies and a curiosity that we wouldn’t play out in our reality. It can stay in fantasy. The fluidity of erotic fantasy is like dreaming.

Being present with our lover enhances our bond with them. There have been a few times that the idea of only kissing together was discussed with my lover. We tried it a few times. Just caressing and kissing — even in the car. Well, I have to admit, we gave in to having sex in the car. But, it worked. Kissing was powerful foreplay for us.

Kissing is actually highest on the charts for both men and women as the main thing that turns them on the most and brings them together. Men, according to Your Tango Tokii survey, put kissing at the top of the list for foreplay, and 57% of men say “yes” to kissing. So, pucker up and smooch away. Men love it more than you think. They love it even more than women do, supposedly.

 “The big question is whether you are going to be able to say a hearty ‘yes’ to your adventure.” 
~ Joseph Campbell

Sex and love. It’s an adventure. Be present. When we are solely focused upon reaching orgasm we can lose sight of being present. We seek that climb toward ecstasy rather than simply losing ourselves in our lover’s eyes and dissolving into the other. We are preoccupied with orgasm as the goal— for some men trying to hold back from orgasm is the distraction. For some women, trying to have an orgasm is the elusive goal. And when we are yearning too strongly for that marvelous feeling, it becomes the antithesis of letting go. We can try too hard or focus too much on that one moment. Thus, we aren’t being present. We strive for that feeling that will lead us to a better sensation, and then even better: orgasm. If it happens effortlessly, then the beauty of sex is breathing through us naturally. The flow of erotic touch inspires us. There are many women who cannot achieve orgasm at all. Psychological blocks, physical problems, and difficulty staying erect and/or achieving orgasm due to age, along with hormone changes, can all affect a man’s ability to orgasm. Anorgasmic men exist as well.

There are some men that fear that they won’t remain as virile or as hard, and if they can’t then women (their wife, their girlfriend), may not be satisfied. A myriad of worries can run through their minds. What if I can’t stay hard? And, what if? Then what? Will she want another man? What if I can’t please her? Well, women are very forgiving, generally. There are other ways to stay connected and give pleasure. Kissing, touching, oral pleasure (for both— even if he can’t stay hard or orgasm— go for it anyway), caressing and fingers work wonders. Giving each other a massage, pillow talk, and laughter can be satisfying ways to bond and stay bonded.  Believe me, just kissing while naked in bed is really fun. And so is watching your lover’s favorite sitcom while snuggled together in the nude. Do it once, and you’ll feel like teenagers in love again.

The psychological and emotional satisfaction levels increase when we are touching each other with affection. The pornographic internet-generated depictions of sex and its one-dimensional façade is junk food compared to the poetry and art of intimacy: the richness of a lover’s kiss, the soulful expression of their eyes, the sigh of their chest when love fills them with emotion, the tight embrace and the feeling that you just cannot get close enough. The meaningful experience of sex can be discovered before and beyond penetration. In fact, penetration, although satisfying in its own right, isn’t really necessary when all the ingredients for soulful sex are present. It becomes superfluous. Yes, that’s right, I said it. Penetration isn’t everything. Don’t read that as if I don’t enjoy it. Oh, I love it. What I’m saying is, penetration is part of, but not the whole of, sex.

Intimacy is delicate; a vulnerable spot in the heart of our erotic selves. We want and crave the closeness. For women (and I say most of this without any scholarly study, just my experiential references), could it be that the weight of their lover upon them echoes an instinctual craving to be taken, to surrender, to be mated with? Male lions grasp the nape of the female’s neck with their teeth while they mount and mate with them. I found this intriguing and it sounded pretty nice too, the whole act. I love my neck bitten, don’t you? The female instinct to surrender is part of the mating dance.

 Then, the Eastern wisdom of tantric sex and all its mystery lifts its veil. The pleasure of receiving expands our awareness, the height of erotic transcendence.

Ancient Chinese Taoists believed ejaculating depleted a man’s vital life energy, or “chi,” so men were taught to preserve their sexual fluid in order to build their vitality.

In Taoist sexual practices, women are encouraged to have frequent and multiple orgasms. This gives the man even more vitality so he can also stay within the woman for as long as possible in order to absorb the woman’s vital life juices and powerful energy, or “yin essence” (“yin essence” is also a euphemism for “sexual fluid”). Well, it makes me want to be a Taoist.

When I am making love with my man I often, and sometimes with mixed emotion, wish that he would just suddenly come inside of me. (Remember, I’m the one that said “penetration isn’t everything?”) I want him to come because I love him so much; it’s instinctual and in that moment I want him to make me pregnant. I want it down to my bones. Love is made of such dreams. I want to melt with him.

So, yes, I’ve been dreaming about it as well. One dream made me smile during sleep. He was awake and watching my face. He asked what I was dreaming of. In the dream, it was so vivid: I was in a hospital recovery room and I had just given birth. Next to me, my lover’s mother cradling our newborn child. She, his mother and the new grandma, hummed a song and rocked the baby softly. The warmth of the dream, the sweet feeling it gave me inside, radiated through my face while I slept. As my darling caressed my face and asked softly what I was dreaming I just smiled a sweet, happy smile. It was a soul deep happiness and a feeling of wholeness in my relationship. I felt belonging. I felt like everything was right.

Not just for my own pleasure do I want to melt and belong to him, but I want to satisfy his desire, his instinct. We make sex complex when sometimes the instincts are just so true to our human nature. I long to feel his slick come inside of me, hot and milky, smelling like springtime and freshly cut grass. That beautiful tenderness overwhelms me when he gives me so much pleasure. I want to feel him fill me with the pulse of his orgasm, the flood of his ejaculation and that dripping tickle when it runs out from me. When I stand up I want to feel his come trickle down my thigh. Sometimes what brings me to orgasm is the notion that he is going to make me pregnant. When he gazes at me when we are making love, I wonder where he is taking me or how far into me his eyes are going. What does he see in me when he gives me one orgasm after another? It’s an adventure, this tantric kind of sex. In a way, we have transcended to another level of sexual pleasure together.

One day we spent the entire day making love. This sounds exaggerated, but really, the entire day just making love. Parts of “making love” involved him making an omelette for me, some tea for us to share, but still we had sex numerous times and the resting moments in between were still “making love” as far as I’m concerned. Because my body was so attuned to his and I had multiple orgasms each round of lovemaking, the last time we made love I came so intensely I felt an energetic flood of orgasm begin in my sex, radiate through my body going upwards through my belly, through my breasts, nipples, and up further out the top of my head, simultaneously—- I felt this orgasm move through my hips, my legs and down through my toes. I was tingling and shaking. That, my dear readers, was a veritable “full body orgasm” without question. That is what tantric sex is all about. Gosh, everyone should experience that in life. I was so high from that orgasm, I felt it tingle through me for hours. Hours. I was giddy, giggly and completely goofy.

“Love is touching souls.” ~ Joni Mitchell

I already have children and I am a mother; happy with my three children, not wanting anymore. Besides, I’m not young anymore or young enough to handle more pregnancies. I know the dream of becoming pregnant again is just a dream. But something else penetrates me when we make love. I become one with him. It sounds corny, but I feel like we are together when we are apart. I believe in soul mates, and I believe we are part of each other when we love deeply.

setting fire to my smokin’ hot mojo

“I’m a fountain of blood. In the shape of a girl.” 
~ Björk

I’m counting down to orgasmic ignition now that I’m on bio-identical estrogen cream and a testosterone cream to blast off my libido. Not that my libido needed anything. But like a pleasure glutton, I said “Sure, why not?” when my doctor asked me if I’d like some testosterone to boost my, um, libido. It’s like asking me if I’d like more chocolate cake, or another helping of garlic mashed potatoes.

All it requires (to get my groove back) is smearing on estrogen cream to my inner arms every morning: two dabs to the inner wrist, circling my wrists around and against each other, rubbing it in, imagining it absorbing into my bloodstream. I am visualizing my feminine body circa 1970′s model to be back to what it was before the symptoms started: as plentiful with estrogen as the plump lips of my thirteen year old self during puberty— glistening with strawberry lip gloss, ready to be kissed. The symptoms? Oh. Well, it began with night sweats and a sudden intolerance for red wine— Chianti to be more precise. It was my one pleasure, my one comfort, a glass or two of red wine. Instead of the usual soft and fuzzy feelings from a big goblet of vino, I got heart palpitations and insomnia. Wine tastings out the window, I was dismayed by this “Second Spring” as the Chinese call it so poetically. What about “Second Orgasm” or “Second Glass of Wine” or something?

I’m going crazy. I’m standing here solidly on my own two hands and going crazy. ~Tracy Lord (Katharine Hepburn), The Philadelphia Story (1940)

It can’t be happening. I’m too young. Aren’t I? But, maybe it was the birth control pills? I began them at age fourteen. I was happy to have sex and not get pregnant. I wanted to have sex with as many guys as I wanted back then. To be filled with their come and not worry about a thing. I didn’t worry. I was young and on the pill, so why worry about anything except remembering to take my pills? Had I known how it would affect my body later? Perhaps the years of taking the pill affected my hormone levels and who knows if it has anything to do with beginning menopause so early. But I feel like I’m not myself. It’s not me. It’s someone else. I feel like I am going crazy. I want my estrogen back. I hear it on the loudspeaker at the grocery store: “Ms. Butterfly, your estrogen is waiting for you at register 9, please come to the information desk.”  

And what about my groove? My mojo? My oh lala? Where did that go? Do you think Joseph Campbell knows where I can find it? Is it in my closet, or in the messy sock drawer? I just can’t find it anywhere. It must be with my pearl rabbit vibrator. I just know it.

“When smelled, an estrogen-like compound triggers blood flow to the hypothalamus in men’s brains but not women’s.” (Ivanka Savic of the Karolinska Institute, Stockholm)

So when I am low in estrogen and feeling less than my usual juicy self, my peri-menopausal mind is confused. I want sex, I want sex, and I-want-sex. But my body is off playing golf with the boys. She isn’t undulating with estrus anymore. She isn’t the Aphrodite she once was. No, in my case, I am wondering where the sexy vixen (a.k.a. my former body) went. Why did I feel like my body and my sexuality were two different and separate things? My mind was contemplating filing a ten-year restraining order against menopause. Do you think a G-Spot vibe would alleviate the symptoms? Hot flashes. Every other minute. During sex. I’m burning up, burning up for your love. Madonna, how did you know? I’m a woman in heat, that’s for sure.

It was supreme… the chicks will cream… for grease lightning… We’ll pound ‘em in the dashboard and duel muffler twins, oh yeah, with new pistons, plugs, and shocks I can get off my rocks, you know that I ain’t bragging, she’s a real pussy wagon, Greased Lightning. ~ Danny Zuko, Grease

Testosterone cream, when applied to the labia, has caused some pretty magical wonders. For one, I wasn’t sure where it came from, but I squirted during masturbation the other day. I hadn’t done that in about ten years. So I tried it out the next day. And it happened again. The G-Spot. Let me tell you folks, I just discovered that I had one. After all these years of looking for it. Female ejaculation is caused by pressure on the G-Spot that releases fluid. More specifically:

“All women have a functional prostate gland, about the size of their thumb, that surrounds their urethra. (Important Note: A medical article published in August 2011 indicates that while all women have “gland-like” structures surrounding their urethra, only 50% may have “a female prostate”. Read more) Just like the male prostate, it produces fluid, beginning at puberty. Within the prostate gland there can be an area of increased sensitivity, more commonly referred to as the G-Spot. The G-Spot is located somewhere along the length of the urethra. When the prostate gland is stimulated, many women experience female ejaculation, and a distinctive type of orgasm, a vaginal orgasm, one that is different from that experienced during clitoral stimulation alone. Some women cum, as in ejaculate, during sexual arousal, prior to orgasm, even without G-Spot stimulation. There is muscle tissue that surrounds the prostate gland that contracts during orgasm, potentially expelling its contents. There is some debate about the origin of all the fluid that is released during female ejaculation, as the prostate gland itself is relatively small, yet some women release up to two cups of liquid. Nevertheless, the liquid released during female ejaculation is not the same as urine. The best way to stimulate the G-Spot is through rhythmic massage with fingers, a penis, or dildo. It may take practice to locate and connect with the G-Spot, and to learn how to experience vaginal orgasms that are accompanied by female ejaculation. G-Spot and vaginal orgasms aren’t nearly as common as clitoral orgasms, some women always experience them, others never.” (the-clitoris.com)

I have never been a woman of extreme female ejaculation capabilities, barring two exceptions. Once was way back in my early thirties, when I drenched the bed (during sex) with my amrita or nectar of the goddess. I was surprised that it all came from me. It was truly amazing to realize that I had ejaculated so much mysterious fluid. Second time was during masturbation, again, in my thirties. I was using two vibes and double penetrating myself (there is an art to this) when suddenly I was coming so intensely, feeling this warm and wet rush of wetness goosh out of me. My lips were swollen, my body was responsive, and I was wet in between my thighs all the way to my knees. It was, strange to say, similar to when my water broke before giving birth. Warm and rushing like amniotic fluid. Pleasant. Not really like peeing yourself, which would be embarrassing. Mainly, I’ve been a ‘clit girl’ with my orgasms beginning with the slippery pressure to my swollen clitoris, and amplified by penetration. Of course, I can orgasm without penetration, but the combination works well. Anal sex is an additional subwoofer to my orgasmic sound system. Did you know that the most powerful subwoofer (for cars) is called the Jackhammer? And here I thought my minivan disc player was antiquated. But, what is worse is me.

I’m functioning like a tape deck with a raveled tape, and what I need is an upgrade. What I need is a good tune-up, an oil change, and a new sound system; and I’m a fast pussycat all ready for speed. After estrogen, and a little dab of that testosterone cream, I’m slick, I’m greased lightning. Thank you for the hormone fix, doctor!

“Cultivate your curves – they may be dangerous but they won’t be avoided.”  ~ Mae West

With the onset of perimenopause, I started getting curvier. Yet a vegan diet and raw foods only made the matters worse. I ate kale and avocado salads, and I worked out two hours a day. Nothing budged. Curves were accentuated. Then. My orgasms weren’t as, well, they weren’t as… they weren’t as orgasmic. It was like eating your favorite dessert but only you have a cold and you can’t taste it as much. You know it’s good, but it’s just hard to taste. Sometimes they would be darn elusive, get so close, and then without warning…kapow! Thankfully, I’d have a good one. But still, it wasn’t the same. Now, I’m a hyper-sexual gal with a libido that matched an entire professional football team (said my ex-husband when we were married). What exactly does that have to do with estrogen?

Menopausal symptoms all conveniently occurred simultaneously with the hottest sex of my life. Fortunately, [the hot sex god that is] my lover is capable of making me have incredible orgasms and knows how to please me in many ways. Including kissing. I thought my orgasms were gone with the wind. Then I discovered passion, or it discovered me. However it happened, chemistry. Bang! Fireworks! Hot flashes! Wow-wow!

“I used to be Snow White, but I drifted.” ~ Mae West

The night sweats, the hot flashes, the insomnia, the feeling of discontent, edgy thoughts, bursts of aggression. Nearly hitting my ex-husband and telling him I’d like to sock him in the face, for instance. Fiery-tempered, hot-headed. I’m a stranger to myself. What was my problem? Other things were changing. And fast. No period for four months. Nothing. No blood. Wanting to come harder and get wetter, but instead I’m not so wet and my orgasms are really good but, occasionally, muffled like before. I worried. I didn’t think it could be anything but hormone fluctuations. Passion and desire certainly helped the situation, and for a good while, distracted me from the issue.

I come frequently, immediately sometimes. Multiple orgasms, yes, yes, yes! Oh, good, I sighed. My orgasms are back in full swing. Maybe that momentary pause was due to a dampening relationship. Was it emotional? Probably. Maybe it was the end of a relationship kind of mystery lull. A new lover has sparked my fire. Orgasms, ho! Yes, the best sex of my life and a real, honest-to-goodness lover that is a good listener with not only his ears, but his hands, his mouth, and his intuition. Amazing sex happens in between the ears. His brain circuitry makes my pussy wetter than any cream, um. Yes, pardon the pun. But he gives me neural and cerebral O’s.

And I was denying it, the onslaught of menopausal verklemption. What happened to my waist? My arms? Why did my six year old daughter tell me I reminded her of Mrs. Doubtfire while I was putting my bra and panties on in the morning? Exact quote: “Mommy, you remind me of Mrs. Doubtfire, but you’re prettier, and you’re a girl.” But I felt like Mrs. Doubtfire. I wasn’t happy about that. No, I’d rather be told I looked like Nigella Lawson with the sashay of Marilyn Monroe and the smoldering appeal of Ava Gardner. How about a dash of Rita Hayworth? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Being forty-one years old, I would have never suspected menopause would interfere with what is supposed to be my “prime” sexual peak. This myth of a woman’s sexual prime being between 35-50 years old isn’t that mythical, especially when I experienced a surge of libido after giving birth to my third child. I thought for sure it would last. I was a believer.

A man’s eroticism is a woman’s sexuality. ~ Karl Krauss

And yet, my sexuality has blossomed in the midst of menopause. I found my G-Spot. I have estrogen and testosterone and everything is groovy. I’ve reached a deeper level of pleasure with my lover. Deeper and wetter and yummier. I’m having amazing sex with someone that turns me on more than the largest electric generator facility in the world turns on over 36,000 incandescent lamps— I explode when he breathes on me, when his fingers ignite my clitoris and even when he nibbles on my neck, ear, lip— I am saturated, swollen, drenched with want. Thank you, Dr. Estrogen, for giving me my groove back. Or maybe I should thank the heavens that I finally found my G-Spot?

I won’t sweep my blossoming sexuality under the rug at forty-one years old. I just won’t. I’m just beginning to have soulful sex and understand my body in ways never before imagined. Like female ejaculation, finding the elusive G-Spot, and discovering that sometimes kissing is just as good as really good sex. Maybe menopause is a blessing, coming out to help me clean house and get ready for satisfying sex. Sorry Micky Jagger, sorry Austin Powers, but I’m getting all of your mojo in a cream and getting some real satisfaction.

Orgasms. The magical gift our bodies have to create indescribable pleasure. When we orgasm, our brains are conducting a symphony of pleasure, and the crescendo (or perhaps many crescendos during multiple orgasms) of it all: the orgasm.

Orgasms are very individual in experience, between men and women, and even different again, how each person reaches orgasm. And not one orgasm is exactly the same as another. Orgasms and their varying intensities can also depend on one’s biorhythms during the day, the week, the month. Our bodies respond better when relaxed and feeling secure. If we are feeling relaxed, our pleasure centers are able to bring us to a wider range of orgasmic bliss. Studies and research have all proven that orgasms are good for you. Not only are they good to experience, but orgasms are an integral part of our wellness and vitality.

Here is a link>> to The Kinsey Institute of Sexual Research<<< for information about all kinds of sexual research and data. There is a wealth of information on masturbation, erogenous zones, fantasy, foreplay, oral sex, bisexuality, anal sex, and other sex related topics. Take note: these studies were done between 1948-1953, so that particular data is outdated, but interesting to see how much has changed since. The Kinsey Institute has a Current Research page with plenty of topics to browse. The current research questions are about sexual psychology, neuroscience, biology, gender studies, sociology and other fields that emphasize the complexities of sexual interest, behavior, and sexual health.

Research of human sexual response by the Masters & Johnson research team was initially conducted from 1957 to 1965, which began their series of studies in human sexuality. Their observation of 382 women and 312 men in these initial studies, estimated to be “10,000 complete cycles of sexual response,” made groundbreaking findings and began theories about sex and sexual response that had not been discovered before. (Except for Taoist Sexual Practices, but we will cover that later.)

About Masters & Johnson’s discovery of human sexual response via Wikipedia:

Four stage model of the sexual response

One of the most enduring and important aspects of their work has been the four stage model of sexual response, which they described as the human sexual response cycle. They defined the four stages of this cycle as:

• Excitement phase (initial arousal) 

• Plateau phase (at full arousal, but not yet at orgasm)

• Orgasm

• Resolution phase (after orgasm)

This model shows no difference between Freud‘s purported “vaginal orgasm” and “clitoral orgasm“: the physiologic response was identical, even if the stimulation was in a different place.

(My note: I am in disagreement with Freud’s theories on the female orgasm. This mention is simply due to the quote. Research is also proving Freud’s theories as inaccurate assumptions.)

Masters and Johnson’s findings also revealed that men undergo a refractory period following orgasm during which they are not able to ejaculate again, whereas there is no refractory period in women: this makes women capable of multiple orgasm. They also were the first to describe the phenomenon of the rhythmic contractions of orgasm in both sexes occurring initially in 0.8 second intervals and then gradually slowing in both speed and intensity.

Orgasms can help us let go of stress. They can help us heal. They can prolong our lives. We sleep better and feel better. We want more of them. But, what goes on in our brains when we are enjoying sex? Discovery Health tells us all about it:

Without nerves sending impulses back to the spinal cord and brain, an orgasm wouldn’t be possible. Just like any other area of the body, the genitalia contain different nerves that send information to the brain to tell it about the sensation that’s being experienced. This helps to explain why the sensations are perceived differently depending on where someone is being touched. A clitoral orgasm, for example, differs from a vaginal orgasm because different sets of nerves are involved.

 All of the genitalia contain a huge number of nerve endings (the clitoris alone has more than 8,000 of them), which are, in turn, connected to large nerves that run up through the body to the spinal cord. (The exception is the vagus nerve, which bypasses the spinal cord.) They perform many other functions in the body in addition to providing the nerve supply, and therefore feedback to the brain, during sexual stimulation. Here are the nerves and their corresponding genital areas:

• hypogastric nerve - transmits from the uterus and the cervix in women and from the prostate in men

• pelvic nerve - transmits from the vagina and cervix in women and from the rectum in both sexes

• pudendal nerve - transmits from the clitoris in women and from the scrotum and penis in men

• vagus nerve - transmits from the cervix, uterus and vagina

The role of the vagus nerve in orgasms is a new discovery and there’s still much that’s unknown about it; until recently, researchers didn’t know that it passed through the pelvic region at all.

Since most of those nerves are associated with the spinal cord, it would stand to reason that a person with a severed spinal cord wouldn’t be able to have an orgasm. And for a very long time, that’s what people with these types of injuries were told. However, recent studies show that people with spinal cord injuries — even parapalegics — can reach orgasm. Dr. Barry Komisaruk and Dr. Beverly Whipple of Rutgers University conducted a study on women with severed spinal cords in 2004. They discovered that these women could feel stimulation of their cervixes and even reach orgasm, although there was no way their brain could be receiving information from the hypogastric or pelvic nerves. How was this possible? An MRI scan of the women’s brains showed that the region corresponding to signals from the vagus nerve was active. Because the vagus bypasses the spinal cord, the women were still able to feel cervical stimulation.

So during sexual stimulation and orgasm, different areas of the brain receive all of this information that lets it know exactly what’s happening — and that what’s happening is very enjoyable. But until recently, we had no way of knowing exactly what was happening in the brain at the exact moment of orgasm.

You may have heard that the brain has a pleasure center that lets us know when something is enjoyable and reinforces the desire for us to perform the same pleasurable action again. This is also called the reward circuit, which includes all kinds of pleasure, from sex to laughter to certain types of drug use. Some of the brain areas impacted by pleasure include:

• amygdala - regulates emotions
• nucleus accumbens - controls the release of dopamine
• ventral tegmental area (VTA) - actually releases the dopamine
• cerebellum - controls muscle function
• pituitary gland - releases beta-endorphins, which decrease pain; oxytocin, which increases feelings of trust; and vasopressin, which increases bonding 

So, our brains “light up with pleasure” just as much as our bodies do during an orgasmic release. And it is release. It is all about letting go. This is what Buddhists call “enlightenment”— letting go. It’s not about attaining orgasm but letting go that allows us to be orgasmic.

In our Western society, we say that we are “coming” when we orgasm. But in Japan, they say they are “going.” Literally. “I’m going” is what a Japanese person might say during orgasm, or “iku” the verb which translates as “to go” or “going” and “ikitai?” which means, “do you want to go?” 

Comings and goings alike, we love the orgasmic feeling of complete bliss. We are in the euphoric state of deliciousness. It’s so good! Yes! We can growl like an animal, groan and scream, moan and laugh. Let it all go. It’s so good, in fact, that our bodies respond favorably. With a release of endorphins, an orgasm relieves tension and stress, and we feel high. And we are!

Here’s a little factoid I found:

Dr. Gert Holstege stated that the brain during an orgasm looks much like the brain of a person taking heroin. Holstege said in an interview with the London Times, “Letting go of all fear and anxiety, might be the most important thing, even necessary, to have an orgasm.”

From Wikipedia:

Orgasm, and indeed sex as a whole, are physical activities that can require exertion of many major bodily systems. A 1997 study in the British Medical Journal based upon 918 men age 45–59 found that after a ten year follow-up, men who had fewer orgasms were twice as likely to die of any cause as those having two or more orgasms a week. A follow-up in 2001 which focused more specifically on cardiovascular health found that having sex three or more times a week was associated with a 50% reduction in the risk of heart attack or stroke. (Note that as a rule, correlation does not imply causation).

Did you read that? Men who had fewer orgasms were twice as likely to die of any cause as those having two or more orgasms a week. So get your two or more a week, boys. And reduce your risk of heart attack and stroke by having sex three or more times a week. And, what about women?

For women, frequent and plentiful orgasms are important to maintaining excellent health. There are many reasons for women to have orgasmic pleasure in their daily life. Healths benefits galore! It also makes you happier. Oxytocin levels are increased, and that is linked to our life’s passion, our relationships, and our wellness. Sexual vitality and a happier, healthier woman you will be.

Orgasms are necessary for our well being. Here are some reasons why:

• Orgasms help alleviate tension
• Orgasms helps hormonal balances
• Orgasms help insomnia
• Orgasms improve cardiovascular health
• Orgasms lower your risk of Type-2 diabetes
• Orgasms increase pelvic strength (lessening incontinence)
• Orgasms are anti-aging

There are so many reasons why orgasms are good. We just can’t live without them, can we? When we do, we feel like something is missing. Right?

There are those who have difficulty having an orgasm. Usually the causes are depression, anxiety, medications, psychological traumas, and abuse. To help heal those issues, sexual exploration and tender loving care is necessary.

For relationships that have waned in the sex and intimacy areas, some loving compassion and extra attention should be the focus, and not the issue of sex itself. Sometimes depression, weight gain, hormones, medications, and stress are the sources of why she or he does not want to make love. After childbirth, in particular, a woman feels a natural shift.  A new mother’s love and attention drifts away from her partner, focusing solely on her newborn baby. Months might pass before she feels up to enjoying sex, or even masturbating. Sleep is also a factor. A new parent may just be too sleep deprived to want anything else but a nap.

Shere Hite, an American-born German, sex educator and feminist, did sexological work focused on female sexuality.

About Shere Hite from Wikipedia:

Hite has focused on understanding how individuals regard sexual experience and the meaning it holds for them. Hite has criticised Masters and Johnson’s work for uncritically incorporating cultural attitudes on sexual behaviour into their research. For example, Hite’s work showed that 70% of women do not have orgasms through in-out, thrusting intercourse but are able to achieve orgasm easily by masturbation or other direct clitoral stimulation. Only 30% of the women in her study reported ever experiencing orgasm during thrusting intercourse.

She has criticised Masters and Johnson’s argument that enough clitoral stimulation to achieve orgasm should be provided by thrusting during intercourse, and the inference that the failure of this is a sign of female “sexual dysfunction.” Whilst not denying that both Kinsey and Masters and Johnson have been a crucial step in sex research, she believes that we must understand the cultural and personal construction of sexual experience to make the research relevant to sexual behaviour outside the laboratory. She offered the criticism that limiting test subjects to “normal” women who report orgasming during coitus was basing research on the faulty assumption that having an orgasm during coitus was typical, something that her own research strongly refuted.

The Taoist approach to pleasure and “joining of the essences” has been around for centuries. Their pleasure was purposeful: Wellness and Vitality.

From Wikipedia:

Taoist sexual practices (Simplified Chinese: 房中术, Traditional Chinese: 房中術, pinyin: fángzhōngshù), literally “the bedroom arts”, are the way some Taoists practiced sex. These practices were also known as “Joining Energy” or “The Joining of the Essences.” Practitioners believed that by performing these sexual arts, one could stay in good health, and attain longevity, and eventually, with some other ‘spiritual’ or alchemical practices, attain even immortality.

According to Ge Hong, a 4th century Taoist alchemist, “those seeking ‘immortality’ must perfect the absolute essentials. These consist of treasuring the jing, circulating the qi and consuming the great medicine.” 

The sexual arts concerned the first precept, treasuring the jing. This is partially because treasuring the jing involved sending it up into the brain. In order to send the jing into the brain, the male had to refrain from ejaculation during sex. According to some Taoists, if this was done, the jing would travel up the spine and nourish the brain instead of leaving the body. Ge Hong also states, however, that it is folly to believe that performing the sexual arts only can achieve immortality, and some of the ancient myths on sexual arts had been misinterpreted and exaggerated. Indeed, the sexual arts had to be practiced alongside alchemy to attain longevity. Ge Hong also warned it could be dangerous if practiced incorrectly.

Here are some links to Taoist Sexual Practices:

• Chang, Jolan. The Tao of Love and Sex. Plume, 1977.
• Chang, Stephen T.. The Tao of Sexology: The Book of Infinite Wisdom. Tao Longevity LLC, 1986.
• Chia, Mantak and Maneewan. Cultivating Female Sexual Energy. Healing Tao, 1986.
• Chia, Mantak and Michael Winn. Taoist Secrets of Love. Aurora, 1984.
• Chia, Mantak and Maneewan. The Multi-Orgasmic Couple. HarperOne, 2002.
• Hsi Lai. The Sexual Teachings of the White Tigress: Secrets of the Female Taoist Masters. Destiny Books, 2001.

I have heard about why women did not have sex with their partner as much or, in some cases, anymore. Sometimes months or years have passed without sex or affection. Resentments, anger, and other issues may be blocking the couple from getting close again. For those situations, some help and understanding may be crucial to bring those people together in a loving way.

My own path of self-discovery during my early years of self-pleasure, and partnered pleasure, allowed me to realize my full orgasmic potential. Masturbation is very necessary for understanding our own way of experiencing orgasms. I happen to be in that 5% of women that not only achieve orgasm via simultaneous clitoral stimulation and penetration, but I am also capable of multiple orgasms. I have an orgasm every time I enjoy sex. I may not have multiple orgasms every time, but I am sure to experience at least one or two orgasms within an hour of lovemaking. But, it wasn’t always that way for me. Over time, I had learned what I liked and what made me respond. How I enjoy my clitoris touched, what excites me, and even new discoveries occur after years of enjoyment and orgasmic pleasure like spontaneous orgasms (it’s happened a few times) from barely a touch of someone’s hand or a ride on my bicycle seat. Working out my triceps in the gym by pulling down on a cable gives me a little tingle down there.

Once, receiving a Thai massage gave me a spontaneous orgasm.

The therapist was massaging into my glutes, pressing his knees into my butt and hips. It was sudden and unexpected, how my body responded. I silently gasped and felt surprised that I had a sudden orgasm. No complaints about it, but I certainly wasn’t expecting an orgasm!

It took years of teenage exploration until I figured out how to touch my clitoris in a quick circle while my boyfriend was thrusting inside of me. That was when I discovered how to orgasm with my partner. I was 19 years old when I first had this a-ha moment. Eventually I learned how to orgasm without touching myself during sex. Then it was a question of what position was best.

Everyone is different. What works for me may not work for another. Even if its similar, there is no exact formula. What works for one woman may not work for another in the exact way. This is what puzzles most men. They think it is formulaic in approach, a woman’s orgasm. There are so many different variables involved. I think I have discovered a commonality among men who know how to touch a woman (okay, some women know how to touch a woman, too, but I’m talking male to female here): sensitivity and listening. There are men that by listening to a woman’s body (and not with their ears but that helps) can read their sexual response. It’s an art, a sensitivity to her own individual wiring. They are patient and very interested in her pleasure alone. They get satisfaction from pleasing her and making her feel good. They aren’t in it to get off. These patient and sensitive men tune themselves in to every breathing pattern, every motion, sound, and swell of the woman’s response. They just get it.

There are many women that do fake orgasms. My guess would be that they don’t want their partners to feel inadequate. Perhaps they are afraid to communicate to their partner. But, sometime soon, if they want to experience pleasure and to enjoy satisfying orgasms with their partner, they need to address it. It’s complex for some women to discover their orgasmic bliss.

I had one friend admit to me that she had never masturbated. We were 21 years old at the time, and I was shocked when she told me. Never? She had never masturbated. Her bedroom at home was the main walkway for the family’s bathroom. She lacked privacy. She also found it difficult to reach orgasm with her partner. Well, of course. She had never self-pleasured herself. How could she know what she liked? I was concerned for her happiness, until I noticed her Hitachi Magic Wand vibrator plugged in next to her bed in her first apartment. I smiled knowingly when I saw the vibrator, because I knew she was catching up on lost time, and er, um… orgasms.

I find that my own orgasmic patterns have deepened and become more intense as I have entered my 40s, in fact, my capacity for sexual pleasure has increased over time. I believe it has to do with self knowledge and perhaps that thing called ‘a woman’s prime.’ My erogenous zones are everywhere, and the biggest one, my brain, is very active. I have been going through perimenopause, and taking Chinese herbs from my acupuncturist to balance my hormones and rejuvenate my sexual vitality. I suspect that it was the herbs for rejuvenation of my yin essence that caused me to feel an intense desire the other night. It seemingly came out of the blue. Aphrodisiacs? What is in that tea?

I was having dinner at our favorite Japanese restaurant, when I found myself lusting over the waiter. My children were clamoring around me and my husband at our dining table, but all I could think of was the waiter, standing before me, half naked, a big hard-on pressing through his pants, his shirt unbuttoned. In my fantasy, he was taking me on the sushi counter, while the chef began to join in. (In this moment of fantasy, everyone in the restaurant disappears.) There I am, staring at the waiter, having this fantasy, when I realize that he is staring back at me in disbelief. You see, this waiter has been lusting over me quite obviously for nearly five years, and this is maybe the first time I have met his gaze in equal amounts of desire. My husband, good natured man that he is, thought it was amusing.

He reaped the benefits later that night, when I looked at him solidly and said: “I absolutely must have an orgasm right now.”

He laughed, “That’s quite a lot of pressure.”

Me: “Yes, but I know you are capable of it. No question.”

Towels placed on the bed (I finally had my period thanks to good acupuncture treatments) we made love like we did when we first met. I was really into it. My body was asking for an intensity that isn’t my usual “go slow… slower…slower” approach. No, I wanted it hard, rough, animalistic. I wanted him to pound me harder and to pull my hair, so he did with a sly smile, clutching my long hair in his hand. I squeezed my breasts and felt them bounce while he plunged deeper… pressure against my clitoris in a circle, because ah, yes… that was what I needed. I came and came in waves of orgasmic pleasure until we were both in a sweaty tangle of sighs and moans. I talked naughtily and told him sexy things I wanted to do: I wanted to watch him with another woman, and make her come like he makes me come. I wanted the waiter in my mouth while he gives me exquisite orgasms. I wanted to taste the waiter’s come, feel it all over my body; hot, delicious, sweet, salty. I was in the heat of desire and the euphoric state of orgasm. Chinese herbs, perhaps?

I said so many things that I usually keep within my mind, but I didn’t say aloud that I wanted my acupuncturist, that I wanted four men, five men, a few women, an orgy. I wanted oysters and champagne and lots of sex. I wanted to give orgasms and to have orgasms again and again. I was in a flurry of erotic fantasy, which helped me reach that magical rippling sensation within my body, something marvelous and ecstatic. I felt myself completely relaxed, letting go, allowing the wisdom of my body to do what it enjoys, and to allow my mind to roam freely through fantasies.

Multiple Orgasms are blissful experiences. I remember when I first began having them. It takes awhile during lovemaking to build up to, but eventually, reaching a heightened state of pleasure, I can experience one orgasm into another, just like waves coming to shore. A little one, another, then a big one… drifting into a little one… and men can have them too! Men are capable of orgasms without ejaculation, as well as multiple orgasms. Try reading The Multi-Orgasmic Man and also The Multi-Orgasmic Woman. Also, The Multi-Orgasmic Couple!

Orgasms. They do a body good! So go have one. Or two. Or more!

I recently tried Babeland’s Body Chocolate with my lover. It is a delicious body chocolate made of sugar, organic cocoa powder, safflower oil, organic coconut oil, organic cocoa butter, and vanilla.

Being an amateur gourmet, I have some experience in tasting other chocolate spreads, from the luxurious Noisella, a Belgian chocolate and hazelnut spread (by Le Pain Quotidien, the Belgian gourmet café chain) to the infamous Nutella. I  love to spread chocolate on bananas, as it’s a sensual experience. Although eating it off a banana is cliche, it sure tastes good. The two flavors together are just delicious. Then I discovered Noisella while dining at Le Pain Quotidien. So, with these flavor references, I can properly explain that Babeland’s Body Chocolate leans closer to the latter, more elegant chocolate spread.

You are probably curious as to why one would order body chocolate spread from a sex toy purveyor when a chocolate spread could be found in some local gourmet shop? Why not go grocery shopping for your own 9 1/2 Weeks sexy food scenario? And so I will explain the positives of trying this Body Chocolate through Babeland: you can also shop for incredible, sex-positive, women-friendly, and even eco-friendly, sex toys while you order your absolutely delish Babeland Body Chocolate. Why not?

This particular “body chocolate” is by far superior to regular chocolate spreads, and comparable to some of the healthier kinds I’ve enjoyed (on bananas, bread and even raw flax seed crackers). But, let me tell you, it’s better on someone’s naked body.

Yes, my husband enjoyed the body chocolate on his nipples: “I didn’t think it would be so arousing,” he sighed. And… tasting it off his nether parts. And… his nipples again. I was surprised that he liked his nipples sucked, and so a discovery was made. Yes, it was yummy for me too, as I enjoyed spreading a taste on his arousal and slowly, languidly, tasting, sucking, and savoring it off of him. You might as well consider this “gourmet sex chocolate” and add it into your sex toy basket.

More reasons to lick up delicious Babeland Body Chocolate:

It contains coconut oil.

Research has proven that coconut oil has many health benefits. The health & beauty plus of coconut oil includes hair care, skin care, stress relief, maintaining cholesterol levels, weight loss, increased immunity, proper digestion and metabolism, relief from kidney problems, heart diseases, high blood pressure, to name a few.

The benefits of coconut oil can be attributed to the presence of lauric acid, capric acid and caprylic acid, and its properties such as antimicrobial, antioxidant, antifungal, antibacterial.

And… chocolate? What could be better?

Think of the pleasure you will both have (or perhaps use it for a menage a trois? A chocolate body painting party? The possibilities are plentiful). And I am sure I don’t need to give you explanations on how healthy orgasms are. Coconut oil, chocolate, and orgasms? A quintessential recipe for health and happiness.

Just the many reasons to enjoy Babeland Body Chocolate. For a midnight snack, or a sexy morning breakfast in bed.

Chocolate happens to be my religion. I grew up in a very liberal Jewish household, the kind that celebrated the holidays with a “pagan” Chanukah bush. I decided that even though Judaism was my heritage, it was really chocolate that I believed in. Chocolate could get me through. If I was having a particularly challenging day, some good chocolate would just make  things better. Not as tame as my British grandmother’s ‘cup of tea’ which also had the magical ability of righting a particularly rotten mood or moment,— chocolate promised of something sensual, something luxurious, like a seductive kiss. Hershey’s kisses, in their happy little easy-to-open foils, buttery with cocoa pleasure. Mood lifting. Aphrodisiac.

If I were admitted into the hospital, when asked what my religion is, I’d say “chocolate”. If I should ever be in a life or death situation, instead of sending the hospital clergy, my wish would be for someone from the ‘religion of chocolate’ to arrive, bearing a large box of chocolate truffles at my eleventh hour. I don’t need gloomy prayers, just give me a decadent bite of chocolate truffle with hazelnut filling.

The {aphrodisiac} history of chocolate and its origins, little nibbles quickly taken from the chocolate bunny of Wikipedia:

The majority of the Mesoamerican people made chocolate beverages, including the Aztecs, who made it into a beverage known as xocolātl (/ʃo.ko.laːtɬ/), a Nahuatl word meaning “bitter water”— Xocoatl was believed to fight fatigue, a belief that is probably attributable to the theobromine content. Chocolate was also an important luxury good throughout pre-Columbian Mesoamerica, and cacao beans were often used as currency.

A BBC report indicated that melting chocolate in one’s mouth produced an increase in brain activity and heart rate that was more intense than that associated with passionate kissing, and also lasted four times as long after the activity had ended.

Babeland Body Chocolate. It does a body good.

When I first decided that I wanted to film myself for Beautiful Agony’s website, I hadn’t any idea that I would be, in the process, exposing the most delicate parts of my being. I wasn’t concerned with masturbating on camera and posting it off to the Feck Party in Australia, because I was incredibly inspired by their artistic project. However, preparing to contribute my video for Beautiful Agony, in particular, has been the most nerve fraying, anxiety producing project I have ever considered. It has required me to examine the interior of my own sexual psychology. So I decided to follow through with it.

I was very certain that I would create a video, no problem. But I was hesitating to actually do it. I made numerous excuses why filming myself while masturbating was just not going to happen, today.

My gray roots are showing, I said to myself. I have to book a hair appointment first, then I will videotape. I can’t find my tripod. I need a better camera. I just can’t find my pink rabbit pearl vibrator. The bedsheets aren’t what I want in the background. I need nicer bed sheets. I have to film in the daytime. The lighting will be bad at night. I need better lighting. It’s too late now; I’ll do it tomorrow. Somehow, filming my orgasm on camera involved shopping for new bed sheets, a new camera, and getting my hair colored and styled at the salon. It was superficial and absurd to worry about those things, when I knew that it was about something else. It was about revealing the essence of my sexuality.

So many reasons why I could not masturbate and orgasm on camera overwhelmed my inner dialogue, running in a loop through my mind. Like a beginner in meditation, the many thoughts were distracting. I had carried my mini flip camera and my vibrator in my handbag for weeks. The video camera and vibrator went everywhere I went, never touched, considered, or used. I discovered, through all my excuse making, that I was still a shy introvert, and filming my face during the most intimate moment of arousal and orgasm was a brave act that exposed me completely.

A new tripod telescoped above me. All lights in the room turned on. Wearing my fuchsia silk kimono and nothing else, I positioned my head on the pillows just underneath the camera’s view. When the camera was on, I felt a sudden shyness. Afraid to breathe almost, I began touching myself. My husband was kneeling next to the tripod, naked, caressing my thighs. I wanted the weight of his body upon me, to feel him penetrate me, press his weight upon my clitoris. But, with the camera rolling and the precarious tripod between us, it felt like an awkward attempt to capture an elusive moment: the orgasm.

So many thoughts ran through my mind during our first video, and none of them were sexual. Preoccupied with the lens on me, I wanted to hide. I wanted to throw the tripod aside and clasp my husband’s warm body to mine. He was loving and tender during the filming process, as he tried to please me while we created the videotaping. He went down on me first, and touched my clitoris delicately, sliding his fingers inside my warm, wet vagina, watching my face. I felt transparent, silly, and awkward, like the tall girl wearing glasses, back in elementary school all over again.

Perhaps that was the source of my shyness: when I first started masturbating. I was in elementary school. By doing this for the camera, I discovered, I was peeling away all the experiences, and coming back to the root of my sexuality.

I was in fifth grade when I found that I had an opening in between my vaginal lips. I knew intellectually that it was there, but had never explored it with my hands. I possessed a strong concept of anatomy, with art books swelling up the majority of my bookcase. Physicians’ Desk References also took up a large part of our bookcase in my home, as well as in my grandparents’ home. The red, hard-bound books as thick as large bricks were stacked one against another in our living room bookshelf. My mother was a nurse and my grandfather was a doctor. We also had The Joy of Sex on the same bookshelf; a veritable illustrated guidebook for a young girl. I knew how babies were made, and where men put their penises, but despite such knowledge, I was still an innocent child. Putting my fingers to my vagina was something I naturally felt compelled to do, privately. I waited until my bedtime, or I disappeared into the bathroom and lay down on the soft fluff of the bathmat. I turned my walk-in closet into a secret hiding place to touch myself, quickly, before anyone discovered me. I was fortunate that my family was liberal about things, and there wasn’t any worry about such a ‘discovery’. But, innately, I felt that it was a private experience.

The human body, in our family, was a natural and beautiful thing. We were very open, and nothing was made an issue. I had two flamboyantly creative and beautiful aunts, and each had a myriad of boyfriends. Monogamy was not implied nor was it expected during my upbringing. Sexual freedom, and women’s liberation was prevalent in my house full of opera singers, flower children, and musicians. No brassieres, no deodorants; it was the 1970’s. My two aunts were earthy hippies, wearing their gossamer Indian skirts and filmy peasant tops. Disco parties were a regular occasion created by my mother. During the summer, running through the sprinklers in our backyard, completely nude, was a routine pleasure on weekends. The warmth of the California sunlight, cool water arcing in rainbows, the sprinklers misting my skin, my wet bare feet upon the grass, the scent of jasmine, eucalyptus trees, the sound of lawnmowers; all evoked summertime, my nude body exposed majestically to the sunlight.

Still, I hadn’t kissed a boy. I was about twelve years old. The tallest girl in school. Skinny and long-limbed, I wore glasses that hid my face, and I was extremely shy. I wore purple, mostly, and knee-high socks in many colors and dazzled with glittery threads. Just above those crazy socks, my knees were covered with band-aids from roller-skating and bicycle falls. I wore gobs of Bonne Bell lip gloss in Piece O’Cake or Dr. Pepper flavor. Crushes were happening with everyone in my sixth grade classroom. The two crushes I had on other boys were unrequited. The boys I liked were the ones that teased me for it. The boy who liked me was as awkward and as shy as I was. He also wore thick glasses and had buckteeth. He was Filipino, and some other mix of Asian. I tried to think of kissing him when I touched myself, but no images came into my brain. I wanted to feel desire. Then summer camp came along. We moved on to different schools. I wanted to remember the way he looked at me, to remember his gaze. I thought there was something in the way he longed for me that was worth my attention.

Instinctively, I felt aroused when lying in the sun, wearing a wet swimsuit. The sun and the ocean, the frothy, enveloping waves, swimming into them, diving, the sensory delight of water and summer heat, all memories of my eleven turning twelve year old body. But it wasn’t until I was thirteen did I learn about kissing and the reactions it causes in boys. It was more subtle, the discovery of my own arousal, and the wetness, that slippery feeling and the ache of pleasure.

The first time I had sex I was fourteen years old. By then, I had learned how to make myself orgasm, but, as I remember it, it wasn’t the kind of orgasm I have now. It was like a miniature orgasm, a prelude to womanhood kind of orgasm. It was soft and fluttery, and without depth. My pubescent orgasms were like meringue; light, and barely a taste upon the tongue of pleasure.

It was summertime when I lost my virginity. June. There was a camellia bush outside of my bedroom window. The heat of the California night, the fragrance of jasmine; sensory memories of my first sexual experience rush back into my mind. The older boy, seventeen years old, fumbling to put on his Trojan condom, all for his pleasure, his orgasm. My own pleasure that evening was the acceptance of myself as a woman. I found that my first sexual experience was liberating.

And so, as a woman, I began my sexual journey. It took some time before I figured out how to orgasm with a partner. I could definitely orgasm by masturbating, that I knew. Finally, when I was about nineteen, I cracked the code of having an orgasm during sex. I had to touch myself while my boyfriend was inside of me, rub my clitoris in little circles until the combination of my clitoral stimulation and his penetration made the most delightful waves of orgasmic pleasure happen. It was then that I discovered what it was all about. This was a true orgasm.

Not until my mid-twenties did I experience multiple orgasms without having to touch myself during sex. I found that if my lover pressed his pelvic bone against me, that the pressure was perfect combined with the rhythms of penetration. I hadn’t figured out how to come while on top of a man, nor did I get much out of the other positions, unless, of course, I was touching myself, but sometimes it took too much effort. A vibrator helped in those cases, and anal sex definitely made me respond, almost to the point of extreme, sudden orgasm. Anal sex was orgasm in zero to ninety seconds flat. It was a good precursor to regular vaginal sex then orgasm. After a few minutes of anal sex (he washed himself off clean, of course), then back to good, old-fashioned, slow motion, vaginal penetration while touching myself was, for me, the ultimate in orgasmic recipes.

Masturbation was still good, although, sex was better. Into my thirties I found myself enjoying richer, more layered orgasms, one after another, wave after wave. How to explain the deepening of one’s sexual response? It just happens, as the body becomes accustomed to pleasure, I suppose. Knowing one’s body after all the years of self pleasuring, knowing your responses, knowing what really makes you feel good. Now, in my forties, I am pleased to find that it gets even better.

On camera, I am searching for the pure source of my sexual freedom, the source of my letting go. While practicing the art of orgasm on film, I am exploring, peeling away the layers of external self, and revealing my real self, letting all else fall away. Self- pleasuring is a practice of meditation, and achieving orgasm is a source of enlightenment. When attaining enlightenment, we are truly in the moment of letting go. Orgasm must be a way, not a religion, then. In fact, Taoist sexual practices describe that sex and sexual energy are parallel to acupuncture, tai chi, qi gong, and meditation, all practices of harnessing and recycling our life energy or “chi”.

Taoists believe that the practice of feeling our orgasm and channeling that energy is calming to the mind and opening the potential of the human spirit. When we are feeling our chi during orgasm, we are practicing a Taoist internal art. There are many other aspects to the Taoist practice of channeling sexual energy and being mindful of our chi. I don’t mean to speak casually about it, nor do I intend to give any expert advice by explaining this. As a completely natural thing, sexual energy, our life force, “chi” is the ‘water of life’ as the ancients called it. My acupuncturist explained that chi is much like a water current. When receiving acupuncture, I felt my energy flowing through meridians, and understood what he meant. Our sexual energy, then, is charged with emotions, and the quality of that energy is what we are talking about. It is about balance and harmony.

Sexually, women (according to the Tao) are encouraged to orgasm as often as they desire. Women are energized by orgasms, their bodies are nourished by the flow of chi, and so it is healthy for women to enjoy their life essence. By taking in the male energy, the female is rejuvenated. There are many books and teachings on this practice.

Capturing a moment of bliss on film, I hope to discover my self on deeper levels, and express the humanness of letting go, surrendering to the magic of life. Just by filming my face when enjoying pleasure and orgasm, it takes the courage to expose oneself to the world, in the very moment of letting go. I hope that the art of my orgasm inspires.

My Beautiful Agony video will be on its way to Australia, where the Feck Party will upload it to their website, as one of the many liberated orgasms on display.

visit beautifulagony.com

Cinema Erotique

A uniquely sexy website that displays beautiful, all-natural women having delicious sex. I’m so excited to have discovered this. You will be too.

Sexy, sensual, artistic, erotic. 100% Unique and Natural. Intelligent. Not your every day porn (thankfully). Erotic stories, quality photos, and unique, explicit films directed by UK born director Cherry Chapman. She does a brilliant job at displaying real erotic moments.

Beautiful, real girls, filmed with professional high def cameras, proper lighting and sound. Cinema Erotique offers up a collection of erotic feature films with a focus on plot and character development.

I have had a difficult time finding any information about director Cherry Chapman, however. All I could find out was that she was born in 1951, in the UK, studied at Eastern European Film School. She is a recluse, secretive (that explains the lack of information about Cherry), loves cinema and the erotic.

I did discover this quote by Cherry Chapman from www.oystersandchocolate.com :

“We started CINEMA EROTIQUE as we thought Porn was so un-sexy. I just don’t get it. What is so sexy about just watching people fuck?  And yet just a smile or a girl dancing can be so erotic. It is in the head, the imagination and this can be created with a bit of intelligence and creativity. We want to use all the resources at our disposal to create the most erotic films possible. Ideas, beautiful women and men, sets, lighting and good sound…”

I cannot wait to explore Cinema Erotique. Just delish!

Beautiful Agony… the unabashedly sexy website that exhibits thousands of real people having real orgasms.

Beautiful Agony is dedicated to the beauty of human orgasm. This may be the most erotic thing you have ever seen, yet the only nudity it contains is from the neck up. That’s where people are truly naked.

The videos were made in private by the contributor (and sometimes their partner). We don’t know what they’re doing, or how they are doing it, we just know it’s real and it’s sexy as hell. Make your ears blush by putting on your headphones and turning the sound to eleven.

Yes, there are free samples. Look for the ones with the red borders and the text underneath that says ‘free sample’.

New agony comes five times per week (at least).

They all have sound.
You will also find interesting snippets, interviews and outtakes.

Some “Agonees” have confess their dirty secrets, and you can watch and listen, so long as you promise not to tell. Look for the word ‘confessions’.

I’m creating my own “Beautiful Agony” submission for you to find…
of course, I will announce it soon, and then you’ll have to join to look for my orgasm video.

play windows media

play quicktime

beautifulagony.com

“Sex is a big question mark. It is something people will talk about forever.” ~Catherine Deneuve

Starlet du Jour :: She Bares All In Shocking Confessions

I was naked in bed, when the phone rang. It was the evening of my twenty-first birthday. I didn’t have a boyfriend. I lived with my girlfriend, and we were having a (secret) bi-sexual affair. No one in our little strip club knew. Jen wanted it to remain between us, because most of the girls had a crush on her. She didn’t want them to know, or all the girls that lusted after Jennifer would then vie for her attention. Perhaps.

“Hello?” I answered sleepily.

“Jennifer?” the man’s voice said.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“Hey, is Jennifer there?”

“No, she’s not home yet.” I replied briskly. “Who may I say is calling?”

“Oh, this is Charlie Sheen.”

“And I’m the Queen of England,” I remark flatly. “Now, really, who is this?”

“It’s… Charlie Sheen.”

The phone muffles and I hear voices in the background. I’m naked, and it’s getting late.

I had completely forgotten about Jen’s little fling with [insert celebrity name here]. Now I realize, in that moment, yes, it was Charlie Sheen on the phone. I was rude, and began to feel regretful for being so saucy. But, in my defense, it was the night of my twenty-first birthday and I was comfortably naked in bed. I worked in the nude, and I slept in the nude. I was twenty-one.

Charlie invited me over to the [celebrity not mentioned] house, up in the hills of Los Feliz on the spur of the moment. I reluctantly accepted, threw on my best white cotton dress, and dashed out the door. I knew the area well, as I had grown up there, and this hilly neighborhood in particular was where my piano teacher lived.

There he was, Charlie Sheen, just as he stated. He stood outside, one-thirty in the morning, on the balcony of the 1930’s Spanish-style home. He watched me saunter into the living room that adjoined the balcony.

“My,” he purred smoothly, caressing my every curve with his eyes. “You remind me of a young Catherine Deneuve.” I felt Charlie’s gaze pour over me like Bailey’s Irish Cream on ice. Creamy and full of sugar. Cloying. Then I felt like a steak in the Pixar eyes of Alex the Lion, hungry on the island of Madagascar. He moved in, closer.

But I didn’t go for smooth talk. I was a stripper, after all. I just smiled my demure self away from Charlie, slowly. It was a nice compliment, as I do love Catherine Deneuve, but I wasn’t falling for it. There were other friends over at the house that night, and so…

I did have a one-night fling with a celebrity that evening. But I won’t mention their name. (Psst… it wasn’t Charlie).

I’m not unique in the way of strippers and Charlie Sheen, however, I will say, elegantly, that I just had to lure you in with hyperbole. Because I (stripper so-called) was naked in bed, talking to Charlie Sheen. (Well, alright, on the phone, about twenty years ago).

But I did not have a fling with Charlie.

I prefer other sorts of men who say little and feed me grapes.

After lovemaking, they caress me with poetic words of adoration, and then take me to a diner for pancakes. If they are going to be syrupy around me, it might as well be while eating real syrup.

Food and sex are connected. Hunger for love, desire, ravenous. The taste of his mouth, the taste of her sex, mouths and tongues, hands for gathering, breasts like (melons, apples, avocados, oranges) and lips like (sugar) moist like (fruit) and her sweet (vagina, pussy, sex, cunt) as juicy as a (plum, peach). Fruits can be feminine ex: Her sex ripe like a guava, wet with juice. Taste. It was so delicious to suck him as his (cock, penis, shaft, bamboo stalk, sex) was like tasting a (banana), and his (semen, cum) tasted like (cream, syrup, hollandaise sauce, crème chantilly, buttery fondue, vanilla custard). I am getting carried away and silly now using hollandaise sauce and fondue. Vanilla custard, however…

I can’t imagine Charlie Sheen knows how to cook. We should round the poor boy up, throw him on an Iron Chef show, and see him wallow in his own sauce. Perhaps dominatrix head chefs dressed in thigh high leather boots and incredibly sexy basques with lace, while orchestrating cooking competitions, should properly punish Lotharios like Charlie. The losers would then be farmed off to the Church of Scientology, never to cook again. What would a show like that be called? Leather Chef? Stiletto Chef?

Perhaps dominatrix head chefs dressed in thigh high leather boots and incredibly sexy basques with lace, while orchestrating cooking competitions, should properly punish Lotharios like Charlie. The losers would then be farmed off to the Church of Scientology, never to cook again. What would a show like that be called? Leather Chef? Stiletto Chef?

As in cooking, so in sex: You wouldn’t rush a butter sauce over a high flame, would you?

Some might slapdash together a meal, so there goes the fast food approach. But, that isn’t erotic, is it? I’m not saying it has to be fancy. It just has to have fresh ingredients. Thoughtful preparation. A sensualist can derive pleasure from a simple fruit on a warm summer day. The way it’s presented is paramount, a gift for the senses.

I once was enjoying an Italian dinner in Los Angeles with a girlfriend of mine. She was very sensual, but it was something she did not display. She was an antiques dealer and personally collected Utrillo prints. She loved to cook. Her sensuality was in her manner, the way she enjoyed food. I will always remember her nonchalant way of making a creamy and sublime asparagus soup. Curvy and witty, she was full of fresh enthusiasm.

After dinner at the Italian restaurant, we ordered dessert. It wasn’t a crème brulee, but vanilla custard, topped with a thin layer of chocolate fondant, poured artfully on top. It glistened with chocolate and vanilla decadence. The waiter brought the large bowl of custard, simple in a white ceramic bowl, to our table. He set it down between my friend and I, and placed two silver spoons, one in front of each of us.

My friend casually sank her spoon into the custard.

The rich chocolate layer scooped away by her spoon, revealed a creamy whiteness, flecked with vanilla bean.

The custard-laden spoon, mid-sentence, entered her mouth. Then her eyes fluttered up into her head as she savored the custard, sighing and moaning. She involuntarily flung the spoon over her shoulder, and all that we heard was her moan of delight and the clatter of the spoon hitting the tiled floor behind us. The orgasm of her mouth was sudden; she had no warning to her pleasure.

The vanilla custard with chocolate fondant was a simple bowl of extreme orgasm.

(Ah, those were the days before Yelp).

Years later, this experience, the vanilla custard, fresh in my mind, a sensory memory I will savor. *The clatter of a spoon on the floor…*