The Clitoris is just the Tip of the Iceberg

I really love getting perspectives of other intelligent, sex-positive, highly charged individuals whose life work is to illuminate and inspire.  One such person is Kim Anami.  For a fascinating look into her life and path, go to kimanami.com and check out "a bodacious life."

Here is her latest writing and I felt compelled to share with you.  Why?  Because it excites me.  I'm one of those women that experiences orgasms beyond just the tip of the iceberg.  And once that orgasm begins, the ride has only just begun so to speak.  This takes time, letting go, surrendering to and with my lover.

Please share your thoughts, as I now have a comment box.  I'd love to hear from you. 

I am forever coming across articles that talk about women’s orgasms, or rather, a woman’s orgasm. As though there is only one.

And then I get confused. Because I wonder, “Are they talking about clitoral orgasms? G-Spot orgasms? Anal orgasms? Ear-gasms?”

I never know.

And the authors of said articles don’t seem to know either.

Presumably, they are talking about clitoral orgasms.

As these seem to be the most common female orgasm, and the one most likely to show up in a lab.

However, the clitoris is just the tip of the iceberg.

Literally.

The clitoris most people know and love is a tiny button on the external vulva which is full of pleasure and swells with touch.

The clitoris is part of a larger system of nerves and tissue which makes up the entire “clitoral bulb,” which wraps itself around the entryway of the vaginal canal, like a wishbone.

This is where things start to get good.

Inside the vagina.

Just like an iceberg, the external clitoris is only 10% (or less) of where female pleasure lies.

I often say that the clitoris is good for a warmup, a teaser to the main event.

But make no mistake, the true pleasure and power of a woman’s sexuality, and the kinds of orgasms which change her life, are located inside the vagina.

I guarantee you that.

Beyond the clitoral bulb, which covers just part of the vaginal canal, and is thought to house the legendary—and far more profound—G-Spot, is a treasure trove of sensation, depth and rebirthing potential.

I use the phrase “Pandora’s Box” to describe vaginal potential. A wild, mysterious cavern which houses transformative potential.

Don’t get waylaid by the clitoris. It’s almost like a detour.

It’s not your final resting place.

This is why so many women are lackluster about sex: they’ve only ever had clitoral orgasms. Or someone told them that the clitoris—not the vagina itself–is the pleasure source for women. And they believed it.

While clitoral orgasms are fun, kind of like eating a chocolate bar, they aren’t life-changing or life-sustaining.

They aren’t nourishing, gourmet food.

You need to go into the vagina for that.

The vagina demands that you open, surrender and fully let go to experience what it has to offer.

After my best, most cataclysmic, sexual experiences, I am glowing. I radiate peace, ease, love, confidence, and beauty. I feel like a new person. I am reborn.

My vagina does that for me, not my clitoris.

The vagina demands that you show up. Deeply.

When you are entered deeply, you have to let go deeply. You have to pull down your walls, open your legs, open your heart and let someone penetrate the deepest parts of you.

The journey towards doing all of those things internally—meaning your internal, emotional landscape—will reflect physically.

When you are vulnerable and soft, your vagina will be too.

When you tune into your own rhythm and flow, your vagina will be wet and flowing too.

When you open energetically to receive your partner, to receive desire and love, your vagina will open too.

It will swell and suck your partner right up.

The keys to the kingdom, or queendom, are found inside.

So in the land of vulvic map-making, the gold is deep within.

Don’t get waylaid by the first bit of glitter you see.

While it can lube up your journey a bit and prepare you for things to come, keep going.

90% of the Titanic-altering power is much further inside.

 Written by Kim Anami

 

Blues Movement

Two levels of knowledge.  She is schooled and fascinated with all things musical.  Able to identify each note and nuance, each composition and chord. Music is in my life as well, but at a much more shallow depth.  The only things I know are names like Muddy and Blind Boy, the chronology that links Brits like Keith to Delta head cutters like Robert , the places like Rosedale, Clarksdale, Statesboro and Highway 61.

 

We are learning to know each other better, having unwrapped outer layers through touch, talk  and drinks.  In this night in the Village I mix her a cocktail of music and lust.

Second floor bar, dark as a cave, a bench on the side, strong drinks in hand, sliding further under the current as SaRon gently strums a pawn shop 6-string and deeply laments another love in vain.    

I follow her mood from attention to closed-eyed appreciation to trance.  The little black dress isn’t so much a deterrent as an open door.

From outer to inner thighs, my hands travel a familiar route; not in the privacy of our nest but semi-boldly in public, covered by the darkness .  She feels the sensations and naturally moves to accommodate both of us.  Spreading her legs, lifting her skirt, settling down with her bare, unshaven crotch shifting back and forth on my hardened fingers to become even more liquid, then the sudden gasp as I enter her fully.

Her eyes are closed, her hands grip my forearm and manipulate me like a toy, guiding me as in solo play.  I know my way from here.  A touch against her tender top, deep two-fingered, excruciatingly slow plunges and withdrawals from her G spot.  I lovingly play her like a cherished instrument, a tune so familiar that it needs no metronome or lyrics.

As the song rises in tempo and volume, she follows the refrain with a sudden, thunderous explosion, gripping the table edges with white-knuckled hands, shuddering and biting off the wails that usually come over her at this point.  Gritted teeth and closed eyes almost hide the orgasmic moment, but a woman at a nearby table sees it, stares transfixed at our scene, then smiles coyly at me. 

My mate is suddenly tender and sensitive, resisting the once-wanted touch as her entire body recoils from the blast.  But in the only cruel moment I’ve had with her, I refuse to remove my fingers.  I just hold them still and firm and after a few minutes the process begins again.

Familiar lovers know each other well and even though the verses change, the harmony only deepens.

She says, He says

 She says

I’m smiling up at him, lost in the ecstasy of the moment, where we’ve arrived after a winding journey of talk, wine, dinner, coffee, more talk, but the sharing kind, the kind that leads to smiling, leaning in, hovering, kissing, and well, where we are right now.  

My hand rests on his broad chest, fingers lightly winding through his curly hair.  Even from the first moments of slowly peeling away the layers of his clothing, I felt his body quiver and I watched him in fascination, as moans escaped his mouth.  He was a thirsty man, lost to all the world, soaking in the sensations of my tender touch.  Trust led to unleashed passion and revealed a depth and power that surely surprised us both.  Even now, after floating on wave upon wave of orgasmic bliss and able to muster a secret smile, I marvel that his masculine essence is like none I've never known.

~~~

He says

I see her beautiful face, so bright and engaging during drinks and dinner.  Now she’s serious, maybe not even aware of where she is, traveling from one orgasm to another, pinned underneath me, pushed down into the bed.  Her hands have lost their grip on my shoulders, her legs have slipped away from my thighs, leaving her entire body open, writhing, gushing, defenseless. 

She’s quickly losing strength, but I can’t stop myself, and she rises to yet one more occasion to celebrate her uniquely sexual center.  She’s looking right into my eyes, widely staring at me, mouth open in awe at the moment, almost unconscious, but not fearful.  She’s learned over the years how to get to this point and she loves how quickly and often she can go there.  And I've learned over longer years how to be attentive, patient, and true to my Southern roots practice "ladies first."  But in this encounter, this moment, it's different for me and I think for her as well.   I’m not in control, but also not under her control.  There is no control, just a changing of leads as we dance into each other more and more deeply.  Smiles will come with memories, but this moment is so intense, there is no room or strength left for smiles, just feelings and fluids.  I’ll remember this moment for the rest of my life.

An Erotic Story

How High The Moon

I immediately became aware there was some chemistry between Miss J.F. (Joy) and I when we discovered we shared similar interests.  Further e-mails led to very sexy flirtations.  Due mostly to my scheduling constraints we were not able to meet for a couple of weeks.  I decided to meet first for social time at a Thai restaurant in her neighborhood.  After 90 minutes of dinner, sharing a bottle of wine, soft talk, gentle caresses and sweet kisses I was busting out of my seams by the time I got to Ms. J.F.’s in call.  As I got out of my car I mentioned that, and she just *had* to check me out right there on the street to verify!

Our date was on a full moon and she put together a playlist of mp3’s on her laptop that each had the theme of moon in it somewhere.  We walked in to hear Ella Fitzgerald singing “How High the Moon” (one of my favs).  After the necessary formalities we proceeded to go at each other as any boy and girl might who hit it off big on the first date.  OMG she is just amazing!  Ms. J.F. is super imaginative and I get the impression she’d cater to almost any whim or fantasy you have.  In my case the GFE fantasy was all I had in mind so she gave it her full attention.   Her French skills are about as good as they come and one gets the impression she is enjoying it nearly as much as you are.  After French I declined both of Joy’s kind offers of massage table and tying me to the bed and proceeded to the usual boy and girl activities I know and love.  One nice thing about Joy is that she gushes when she cums.  We ended in missionary.  I was just about thinking it was time to take off the rain coat and let her finish me off when the water came and she came.  The excitement of Joy’s orgasm and the warm fluid dripping off my balls pushed me over the edge and I joined her in a delightful orgasm.

Moonstruck

Once in a Blue Moon.........I need a helping hand!

Can you believe August is a Blue Moon Month?  If you are anything like me, I find full moon energy to be quite compelling.  Just seeing it fills me with a sense of awe and magic.  I want to dig my hands in deep and explore all things hedonistic.  Lust and lasciviousness prevail.  Just think, August will have two full moons!  This will be an exciting month for sure and I'm hoping you'll have a hand in the exploration of that.

So, speaking of needing a hand, or giving you something to do with your hands, I just had to share the following article with you....for who wouldn't like to save all mankind?  ;)

How a Woman’s Orgasm Can Save a Man
Hugo Schwyzer

Can teaching guys how to give women orgasms prevent the much-heralded "end of men"? As far-fetched as it sounds, one rapidly growing organization claims that equipping men to make women come is the solution to the much-vaunted masculinity crisis.

"Learn Orgasmic Meditation and everything that goes with it," urges the website for One Taste, a San Francisco-based organization that promises to help women move beyond the pursuit of a quick climax and into the realm of the 15-minute orgasm....

The basic technique of OM hasn't changed in recent years: a "stroker" caresses what Daedone claims is a woman's most sensitive spot, the upper-left quadrant of the clitoris. The "stroker" (almost always a man) is fully clothed; the woman being stroked is only naked from the waist down. The traditional practice lasts 15 minutes; rather than producing a single sharp climax, an OM is an extended orgasm that may or may not have a distinct peak. When Salon's sex writer Tracy Clark-Flory observed a public OM session, she found it "arousing and deeply bizarre."

Men stroke; women are stroked. ... She claims that an experienced male stroker can receive every bit as much ecstasy from OM as the woman whose clitoris he's caressing.

But the real payoff of OM for a man goes beyond his delight in watching a woman orgasm beneath his fingertip. ... OM gives men a sense of mastery, not just of women's bodies, but of themselves. If it's true that there's nothing straight men want to know more than to how to please a woman, then it follows that if they figure out how to do that well and consistently, they'll receive a boost of confidence that will bleed over into every other aspect of their lives.

Ken Blackman, a 48 year-old former Apple software engineer who is now One Taste's "senior stroker," told me that One Taste had transformed his life. He came to the OM practice as a self-described "short nerd" who was desperate to learn tips for becoming great in bed. What he found instead was a whole new way of relating to women and to himself. According to Blackman, becoming a great stroker (Daedone praises him as among the very best she's taught) has little to do with technique and more to do with cultivating "a talent for play." "Women want men who have a demonstrated capacity for handling the truth," he says; "OM teaches guys how not to be intimidated by the full intensity of women's hunger."

Pick-up artists often promise male clients the same thing: insight into "what women really want" as well as an injection of much-needed confidence. When I ask Blackman about the comparison between OM and the purveyors of "game," he acknowledges the similarity but suggests One Taste offers a more collaborative view of heterosexual relations. "Pick-up artists turn women into a formula: ‘say this line and she'll go to bed with you.' OM gives guys a compass for how to interact with women as equals."...  

As Daedone explains, OM doesn't just get women off –- it gives them the tools to ask for what they want in every area of life in every area of life. Women who've been raised to believe that men will run from women's rage discover that in OM, guys develop the skill, the resilience, and the maturity to show up and stay present. "It's made me much more attractive to women," says Blackman. He's not just talking about the digital skills that have made him senior stroker; he's talking about the emotional competence he's developed....

... Men can learn not to fear women's sexuality, not by asserting control over it but, as Blackman says, by "learning to dance with it." In the words of one of the year's biggest country hits, the solution to the man malaise may lie in giving guys what they really want: "Something to Do with My Hands." OM is far from the only solution to the current crisis, and for a lot of us, it may be one of the oddest. But for its growing number of devotees, it's surely the most pleasurable.

Read more here - http://jezebel.com/5927470/how-a-womans-orgasm-can-save-a-man

Couldn't we all use encouragement with communication, confidence, and connecting? It's not a perfect article. But I'll bet it made you smile. I sure am, thinking of the intensity I can feel your fingertips....

 I'm st(r)oked!

New Year's Resolutions - An Apple A Day

As a Health and Wellness Consultant I just couldn't help recalling the "An Apple A Day Keeps The Doctor Away" adage so many of us have heard as children, when I was considering some New Year Resolutions.

But, who says it has to be just an apple?

In fact, I have many "One A Day" efforts to keep my life healthy and well.  Perhaps my most favorite is 

"An orgasm a day keeps the doctor away."

....Anyone know who said this famous quote?

Do your research and discover the many health benefits of an energetic sex life. Or come see me to learn or experience more.  An orgasm a day is exceedingly healthful, but what do you imagine profuse orgasms are....???  For a multi-orgasmic woman like myself, I'd say it keeps me young-at-heart and spirited.

Here is one of my favorite self-portraits.