Pleasures of the Flesh

  

Takeaway: If you’re a “go through the motion” type of lover, she’ll know this and disengage long before second base.

Cunnilingus – the act, the psychology, the pleasure, frustration, and the mystery – men generally like getting head, right? That scintillating touch, stroke, suck, and licking of cock, bringing your member to hard attention, salute. Stimulating thousands of penile nerve endings penetrating deep in your shaft and pulsing the head of your cock. That intense genital stimulation as a precursor to sensual sex…

We assume women also crave those deep vibrations around their vulva and clitoris, stimulating them to intense arousal and begging for penetration. When sucking or stroking a woman’s clit can produce a squealing squirting orgasm, it must be part of the sexual handbook, Foreplay 101. But despite the incredible bliss that a talented tongue and determined fingers can bring, some women just aren’t having it.

Oral Sax lamented his patented cunnilingus techniques that secured his international fame. He uses oral sex as a precursor to exotic sex which primes his partner for orgasm and cements his name among the immortal sex gods. The takeaway is that he enthusiastically enjoys pleasuring women. He attunes himself to a woman’s reaction, direction, and pulls from his bag of tricks to find what works individually.

The best lovers already know this and employ his playbook: learn the skill and adapt your methods to your partner’s likes. Women just like it that way: otherwise, they say, don’t bother.

Curiosity and memories of my own experience with oral sex led me to research female indifference toward it. The same turn-offs were mentioned so often that it’s easy to assemble a short list of grievances in order of frequency: a lover’s talent; her trust (trauma); and her self-consciousness.

“…only harlots and Jezebels enjoy pleasures of the flesh.”

Quickly dispensing with the nuisance religious angle – because only harlots and Jezebels enjoy pleasures of the flesh – did Mary experience heavenly head in her tryst with The Man? Likely censured by frustrated, celibate monks in the 8th Century, the New Testament doesn’t reveal the spiritual pleasures that earthly girl knew.

In the G-rated Bible, the divine romp was written in such nebulous terms that the colossal fuck must be taken on faith alone. To perv the event in literal terms would be lustful, unclean, and scandalous. I don’t know that the Bible makes reference to cunnilingus, but I’m betting Jezebel gave wicked head.

Only Neanderthals skip foreplay when a woman aches for it…

However, imagine a blow job from a disinterested partner going through the motions: no eye contact; no enthusiasm; no creativity; no skills and no friction! Women express the same reaction to lame oral sex, if they even get it at all. Only Neanderthals skip foreplay when a woman aches for it, and the result is a less than optimal sexual experience for her and diminished interest in sex with you.

But if you’re going down there, consider these points from the ladies:

Many women engage in oral sex only to please their partner. If they don’t enjoy it, they’re thinking about work, their shopping list, or another guy. A disinterested partner is an immediate turn-off and a woman will spot this faster than radar. It’s essential that she believes you enjoy her body, her scent, her essence. Without that trust, the odds of her having an orgasm just plummeted.

 

Unlike patriarchal phallic worship, girls are discouraged from  embracing their anatomy. The embarrassment of puberty, menstruation, and breast development are often rife with personal trauma and cultural shaming. A good lover intuitively knows women may be insecure about their bodies and celebrates her goddess attributes.

 

Some women refuse oral sex to avoid disappointment and embarrassment. Lame cunnilingus is irritating and an endurance chore for many women. Women with body shaming or body image concerns are self-conscious about odor or their genitalia appearance. A woman who doesn’t masturbate doesn’t know which sensations arouse her. Survivors of sexual assault/abuse or domestic violence harbor trust and shame issues which often prevent enjoyment of foreplay, oral sex, and sex in general.

 

Some women have a very sensitive clitoris and they prefer a light touch. Others are power queens and crave intense stimulation. Some like attention around their entire vulva, the clitoris, the labia, the urethral sponge, their vagina, and anus. Women are hesitant to give direction to their partners about what they like because he/she gets mad or ignores their requests. Explore, ask her what she likes, and unless you’re a Neolithic fugitive, give it to her!

 

Culturally, women are “givers” in the family and in the relationship. We focus on immediate needs and we are not used to receiving pleasure and being the focus of attention. Keep in mind that many women don’t know how to relax and “receive” foreplay and oral sex. It can be embarrassing to be the focus of attention, especially having your genitalia exposed and open to scrutiny. A key move is to help her relax and compliment her body, her pussy, her taste and scent with sincerity or dirty talk. (Hint: eye contact works wonders here!)

If you’re a “go through the motion” type of lover, she’ll know this and disengage long before second base.

It boils down to knowing your partner and how she responds to sex: what she likes and what she may be hesitant about. The act is a mental experience for women and she needs to trust that her partner has her best interests In mind and a sincere desire to please her. If you’re a “go through the motion” type of lover, she’ll know this and disengage long before second base.

The internet is loaded with oral sex and fingering techniques to improve your confidence and skills. If you want to help her surrender to foreplay, you need to master this power play to convince her she is emotionally safe to relax with you and that she will enjoy the experience.

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Copyright 2017 - Sexualista - All rights reserved.

 

Lobster Man and the Haunted Toy Store

Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho” – 1960

 

Several Halloween’s ago, hubby coaxed me into visiting a haunting establishment: a journey I submitted to with trepidation, embarrassment, and anxiety. The fear of the unknown gripped me as if entering a spooky house after dark and peering into demonic chambers with a weak flashlight and thumping heart.

It was an unforgettable, impressionable scene: a horrific step into an unknown realm with exaggerated body parts, animalistic moans, and a zombie-like goon squad. It was a place where dashing out the door was as terrifying as entering. Once inside, the only option was to swallow my fear like women in the videos did with those elephant cocks.

We selected an adult book store/theater along a depressing stretch of highway in a nondescript concrete building. A few beat-up cars lined the parking lot, the store lights flickered, and I sat imagining the horrors within those walls from the safety of my car. I needed a few tokes to calm my nerves before entering the chamber – which in retrospect, only exaggerated the paranoia which followed.

It was a foggy night with few cars on the road and the glow of the book store sign reminded me of a Bates Motel sanctuary for weary pervs. The stigma I felt entering the building was quickly squashed by the goon squad welcoming committee. An oafish, mute man of about 8-feet tall leered at us as we walked in and adjusted our eyes to the bright neon of a plastic pleasure dome. There was no friendly welcome to this hellish place: no smiling Wal-Mart greeter to assuage my fears.

Behind the counter stood a bizarre-looking man giant bent over looming at a Playboy magazine with a puffy red face and neck bulging from the neckline of his shirt. Was he overcome with sheer horniness, a third-degree sunburn, or roid-rage? I still don’t know. Thankfully, lobster man failed to acknowledge us as we skulked through the store entrance.

Above his head and scattered about the store were large television screens blasting scenes of bondage, primal sex, and women with contorted faces. I paused to watch a video aimed toward a standing women’s pussy with her one leg extended out to the side. She moaned with pleasure as a large cock pounded her from behind then paused and slowly moved in and out in shallow thrusts just inside her vagina.

She furiously rubbed her clit and howled like a cat in heat before squirting a fire hose stream aligned with the camera view. At that time, I was just learning about female ejaculation, and this video captured my deep imagination as she repeatedly came each time that cock pulled out.

As the cock came inside her and that sticky liquid oozed from between her legs, I felt my own pussy twitching with excitement and I felt a certain “squirt envy” for her accomplishment. As I pondered the physics of the scene, the lobster-faced goon beneath the video screen coughed and jolted my bewildered trance. He stared hard at me, likely wondering why the newbie ogled the screen with the wonder of a tourist in front of the Mona Lisa.

Peter Lorre
Peter Lorre

Hurriedly, I disengaged his penetrating Peter Lorre stare and searched for hubby, the one human in the building I was reasonably sure could return some perspective to the scene. Turning to escape the goon squad, I bumped into a scruffy-looking gent perusing the video rack of bi-sexual male porn. I swear he licked his lips and parted his squinting lids to eyeball the frightened girl adrift among daunting over-sized dildos, heinous-looking butt plugs, painful nipple clamps, and electro-shock thrills.

Just then, I caught an overhead video of a women lying on her back being faced-fucked by a cock the size of a submarine. As she stared up at her tormentor, she mustered an occasional smile with her eyes as the unrelenting cock continued thrusting deep into her throat and plowed her esophagus. This anatomical wonder captured my attention as my THC-haze tried to map the logistics of throat fucking and the actress’ feigned enjoyment of the assault on her digestive system.

“Come here,” shouted hubby from a nearby wall of toys and I scurried to join him and his discovery of pervy sexual delights. A couple passed by giggling at the bondage toys they collected and I blushed with embarrassment that I knew nothing of spreader bars, urethral plugs, and cock cages.

Aries Blake

“You should try this,” hubby said, proudly displaying a shiny bullet vibrator.

“Use it on the way home in the car.”

The thought of pleasuring myself with him beside me in the car further cajoled my altered state into a paranoid urge to slink out of the store.  I struggled with visions of myself bound and gagged in the adjoining theater, an experimental sex victim at the mercy of Halloween’s Michael Myers and his grimy coveralls.

Collecting my wits, I wandered into the dildo isle where I felt comfortable perusing the offerings and selected a thick 8-inch curved whopper I was sure would not disappoint. Women rode cocks in videos above my head with a dancer’s finesse and derrieres of sculptural artistry. Never mind analyzing their physical prowess now, my altered state had convinced me I was out of place in the Land of Oz, and the wizard behind the curtain amused himself at my expense.

“The horror. The horror….” Marlon Brando was with me.

 

Armed with a dildo clutched tight against my chest, lube, a bullet vibrator, a vibrating egg, and some cock rings, I scurried past hubby leisurely perusing  some lingerie and stockings for me. The horror of squeezing into an ill-fitting lace body suit and prancing about as a sex kitten at my age spawned visions of Phyllis Diller and sent me spiraling into a dissociative state.

Piling the toys in hubby’s arms, I bolted for the door past lobster man, a gadfly creep leering at customers, and the mute goon by the exit. With walls closing in and the floor slowly falling, I jumped out of that sex dimension and into the foggy, damp parking lot.

Safe in the car driving home and coming down from my 420 haze, I laughed as hubby and I recounted the scene. We enjoyed embellishing the drama — as we do with every good story — and categorized the scene as a bad Peter Lorre horror movie.

Hubby convinced me to try the vibrating egg in my pussy. Pulling my pants down and fingering my pussy, I anticipated sexual pleasure like the woman squirting in the video, and I eagerly spread my legs.

Hubby rubbed my clit as I inserted the plastic egg, turned it on, and slowly relaxed enough to enjoy the sensation. At that point, I knew I would become a lover of sex toys and increasingly less mortified to visit adult toy stores. The bumps in the road jolted the egg inside my pussy and intensified the thrill.

I lay my head back and concentrated on that vibrating pleasure sphere in my pussy. As we rounded the next corner, hubby jumped on the brakes as the headlights revealed a sideways car on the road with lobster man and mute boy standing on the road brandishing chain saws and over-sized, pointed sharp dildos.

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© Copyright Sexualista 2017 – All rights reserved.

 

From the Mail Room

Aries Blake

 

I’m very encouraged by the feedback I hear from readers. Some folks appreciate the sex education information while others (I’ve been told) cream their jeans reading the erotic details. I like to share a few reader emails occasionally because their comments may hit home with other people pondering similar issues. As usual, the guys are more vocal than women, but I’m hearing from more femmes now and it’s very liberating.

Takeaways: It’s not entirely “his” fault if she doesn’t orgasm. Never give up on experiencing orgasm. For many women, it happens later in life.

A few items from the mailbag:                   

A female Twitter follower: “Love your blog, and your directness, knowledge, and honesty are refreshing. What you’re doing is so important, and I hope woman….young and old…..find their way to your blog (and of course men also). I am 60, and am only now discovering how to have vaginal orgasms, what “squirting” feels like etc. Oh I could go on and on about the difference in attitude, sexual desire/indifference at this stage of life as compared to the years raising a family.  Cheers to you for your research and ability to so eloquently share with all who are interested.” – L

Reader comment: “For most guys, we are blind to what women desire, and seriously lack in communication skills. So we turn to porn and reading blogs like your own. When it comes to women, there is still a very strong stigma saying they shouldn’t explore themselves. Or they are simply ignorant to find out there is more to their sexuality than they think.” – F

A male swinger, wrote: “My initial reaction to the blog (Sexualista) was: wow! Here is a brave soul. Someone willing to write (which, in itself is a bold step) candidly on a subject that most people want to ignore. Many people can write about sex, but usually that slides into erotica. While that is useful and fun, it is not completely honest. And I appreciate your honesty.

“I also appreciate your quest for orgasm and the quest to educate others about it. It really is a noble goal (and could be a ton fun trying to achieve it!). It’s funny. I got into the (swinger) lifestyle because I love sex. But I’m beginning to realize that the bigger motivation is to learn how to please a woman and to explore my kinks, and sexuality.

“It was always easy to blame lack of sex at home on my wife’s low sex drive. But if I enjoy sex so much, why isn’t my wife? Probably because it’s not worth her time and that is where I come in. I need to be better. Open her world. Show her possibilities. Push her to incredible limits, and beyond.

“It is so hard, however, because my wife – and other lovers – don’t want to hurt me. They’ll tell me I was wonderful. I was great. But the truth is they are being nice and it’s not helping anyone. I love to please. Love it. If two people are engaged in hot, erotic, sweaty sex that brings them both to mind blowing orgasm, everyone’s happy, right? So, therefore, I appreciate your blog. It speaks the truth I am seeking.” – G

Frequently quoted reader: I see you have added to your Valkyrie blog. It is absolutely fantastic and erotic… I also have much admiration for you and your pursuit to regularly achieve orgasms. The percentage of women who can do that or are willing to pursue it must be very very small. Hopefully others will get inspiration from your endeavor.

From a man’s perspective your writing has given me valuable insight that typically is not readily discussed between partners … 1. That it isn’t necessarily my fault if I couldn’t get a woman to orgasm. It requires practice and a knowledge of their own body to achieve orgasms.

2. There’s different types of orgasm based on different stimulation. 3. The very descriptive narrative of your mind blowing orgasm in your last post provides a perspective not readily available to men, also very hot! I wouldn’t say it’s a how to, but definitely gives me ideas of where I want to experiment.

“Besides all that I love your writing style. It’s an interesting combination of education and erotica. After this topic is mastered, I look forward to your next. Want to give any hints?” – C

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Please post any comments you might have or send me your confidential email address – my eyes only – if you would like notification of future blog posts.

I would love to hear your suggestions for future blog topics or if you want to trade innocuous barbs, I’m all ears.  I’m happy to answer any questions you might have or just trade hot, torrid stories.

Callme@sexualista.net

 

Copyright © 2016-2017 Sexualista. All rights reserved.

Yankee Ingenuity

After pinpointing my G-spot, the next step, naturally, was to lavishly entertain it. Research and development of a sustainable masturbation technique was a rigorous, fatiguing, and sometimes riotous process. But seek and ye shall find.

Masturbation tool kit. – Aries Blake

I experimented with known masturbation techniques to little avail. Fucking your pussy with a dildo on the bed is fun until carpel tunnel kills the buzz. Riding a dildo stuck to the floor or shower wall is for 18 year-old gymnasts and contortionists respectively. Riding a dildo attached to the toilet seat can and does cause orgasms in the rider. This method, however, requires the quad strength of a power lifter and my best squatting days are vague memories.

After an exhaustive period of trial and error, I haphazardly employed an ingenious use for the iconic George Foreman Grille in my masturbation repertoire.  The grille’s plastic lid, that simple three-cent piece of petrochemical engineering, now held the power of my orgasm. My pet name for this new giver of pleasure was “The Vaginator,” and my idolatrous devotion was complete.

Stay tuned; on Monday, I will reveal homespun technology for combining a simple cooking machine and a sex chair to facilitate powerful vaginal orgasms.

COPYRIGHT © 2016-2017 – SEXUALISTA – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED