The Clitoris is not a Button, it is an Iceberg

By Julie Balsiger

“How is it possible that we landed on the moon before we figured out the anatomy of the clitoris?”

It’s not surprising that most men haven’t a clue about the female sexual organ—the clitoris…most women don’t either. Today the word vagina is used for that general region of our lady bits, but as Sophia Wallace states,

“‘Vagina’—the single-most misused word in the English language. This is one of the laws of Cliteracy. It’s intentionally hyperbolic. ‘Vagina’ is a Latin word. It means ‘sword holder’. Vagina, medically, technically, only includes the opening. This term is used almost universally in doctor’s offices. It’s also used in feminism to sort of advocate. But it’s a term that ignores the clitoris, which is the female sexual organ.”

I don’t remember having “the talk” growing up, other than the often-heard, “don’t get pregnant!” shame-filled accusation thrown at me before every school dance. In school, we had a few vague conversations about periods, but mostly these talks centered around what not to do on your period. The female body was only discussed when we talked about where babies come from and never about female pleasure. I babysat for a young couple who had an interesting library of books and that’s where I first read The Joy of Sex, and then that other classic, Our Bodies, Ourselves. This book introduced me to all sorts of new worlds and I still have my vintage copy.

What we’re taught about our bodies extends to equality in the world.

“In sex education, it is taught that boys are both sexual and reproductive, boys have erections, boys have wet dreams, boys ejaculate, and then the semen fertilizes the egg. Girls, we’re taught, have reproductive organs, they menstruate, menstruation is painful. Girls should not get pregnant if they don’t mean to. Girls should not get sexually transmitted diseases. We never learn about the clitoris. We never learn that girls have a desire, that this is natural, that girls have sexual dreams, that girls have fantasies.”

Clearly, some better sex education is needed for teens but also for everyone. There’s no real excuse to not know more about our bodies. Like…about the clitoris, did you know that inside that “iceberg” it is actually shaped almost like a penis? That only what we see on the outside is the “tip of that iceberg.” I didn’t, but so much makes sense now.

Check out this image, it’s basically a hidden droopy penis with balls (not the actual medical term):

Mind. Blown. Life makes a bit more sense, no? I’ve known so many powerful women “with balls” and now it’s true. Science! And maybe if we start to know more about our powerful bodies, we’ll stop using female anatomy references as a way to put down men? We should be rising up, erect and powerful, and showing the world that we are not just “empty voids” for male pleasure.

Sexual organs, of women at least, are still steeped in mystery. Case in point, I live as an expat in Turkey and the first nine years here, I was living in a rather small village where patriarchy was (and still is) the way of the land. It is not uncommon in rural areas to have men and women completely separated in daily life. After being annoyed one day about needing to move my seat on the bus because an older man didn’t want me (a woman not his wife, daughter, or sister) in the aisle seat across from him…yes there was an aisle separating us…one good, a local friend of mine (male, university educated, mid-30s) explained the logic like this, “Women have special powers downstairs. Men are unable to resist these powers and so the woman needs to move otherwise the man cannot be blamed for his actions.” Yeah…some Deuteronomy-style rape logic but it made a lot of sense of how things were arranged as a society. After he said that (and basically agreed with that way of thinking), a good friend of mine (also an expat) and I would make jokes about our special “hooha laser beams” that shoot out as we make “pew, pew” noises with hands shaped like pistols whenever a guy annoyed us. I might just need to send that illustration to a few guys there now, or at least to their wives.

“All bodies are entitled to experience the pleasure that they are capable of. This is a core pillar of cliteracy. In making this work, I had to say that the clitoris, first, as an organ, has a right to being and that this right is not just about not being cut off. Sadly, to this day, over 140 million women have had their external clitorises cut off. This doesn’t make it into the news very often, and this doesn’t come up in foreign policy discussion. So number one, the clitoris has a right to exist, free of harm, like any other organ.”

If You’re Trying to “Get your Body Back”—Stop.

By Bailey Gehrke

We’ve all heard it before: comparison is the thief of joy.

A simple concept that is so easily forgotten. When we fall into comparison, we tend to compare our current bloopers to another’s highlight reel. We compare the aspects that we deem “Need Improvement” to something that “Exceeds Expectations.” When we base our actions and thoughts off of what something looks like, we are always setting ourselves up for disappointment. Comparison truly is a thief of joy, contentment, and self-love.

Think of a time in your life when you felt your best in your body; felt the most comfortable in your skin. More likely than not, whether it was six months ago or 15 years ago, that time is associated with a number. The number that showed when you stepped on the scale, however, many years ago, and you felt the best about it.

And now, as we look in the mirror or see a photo we deem as “unflattering,” a little voice in our head says, “If you could just get back to that number on the scale again, you’d be happier.” Or, “If you could get back to that body again things would be better.” We then set off, using whatever means necessary, envisioning the moment when we look in the mirror and see our 15-year-old body, or our 22-year-old body, or our 35-year-old body.

Here’s an unpopular opinion—an idea we may not like: we will never have the same body twice. We will never look in the mirror and see our 15, 23, or 35-year-old body. Ever again. That’s not to say that we can’t reach that particular number on the scale, but it is to say that even if we do see that number on the scale, and we look in the mirror, our bodies will not look as they did then.

Here’s what I know: I have gained weight, then lost it. Gained a little, then lost a little. Gained a little more, then lost a little more. Through all that time and through all those transitions, I’ve never looked in the mirror and saw the same body twice, regardless of what the scale was telling me. I’ve seen the same number on the scale at least five times in the last five years, and it’s visually looked different every single time.

Here’s why this happens: our bodies have a certain percentage of lean body mass or muscle. On top of the muscle is fat. The amount of lean body mass we have, plus the amount of fat we have, plus some organs and important water stuff, equals our scale weight. The visual composition of our body is dependent on how much muscle we have and where the fat is distributed within the body. If weight is gained or lost, the amount of lean muscle mass is going to change as well, which means the fat that we have gets redistributed. When the fat is redistributed, it will visually look different, because the amount of lean muscle mass is different.

Basically, all that science-y crap means is that one specific time you saw that particular number on the scale, that scale weight was made up of a very specific amount of muscle and fat. It is very unlikely you will ever see that very specific composition again. Meaning, you will never look in the mirror and see the same exact body composition twice. Meaning, you should stop comparing your “today” body to your “then” body.

Men chasing after their “18-year-old self” six-pack, stop. A six-pack can be obtained, but the process to get there and the end result will look different. Using what worked then is negatively impacting your results now.

Mamas trying to “bounce back” from your last baby, stop. Your internal organs literally shifted, and you grew a tiny human inside of you. That’s rad. Your body can’t go back to the way it was because you’ve not only made space for a new little person, but your personal growth has filled in those spaces.

Anyone trying to “get your body back” after many years of “letting yourself go,” stop. You’ve learned so much in this time, you shouldn’t be “going back,” there is nothing for you back there.

Instead of focusing on what was or how something looked in the past, let’s change the narrative. How can we become the best versions of our current selves? Not the second edition of an outdated self. Going one step further, let’s ask ourselves, “What would the best current version of me feel like?” Notice how I didn’t ask, “What would the best current version of me look like?”

We are always changing, always learning, always becoming better. We wouldn’t trade what we know now for what we knew then. We are always moving forward, and so should our bodies

– via Relephant

Most Women Fake Orgasms Because Most Men Fake Foreplay

~by Bella Bliss via Elephant Journal

I don’t remember ever having faked an orgasm in my life, honestly. For many years I just didn’t have orgasms with lovers, but somehow it never occurred to me to fake it. However, I am realizing lately how common it is for women to fake orgasms.

Quite a few of my female clients tell me they fake it because they feel so dissatisfied sexually and just want to get it over with. This happens for many different reasons related to lack of contact with their sexual energy, low libido, insecurity, lack of connection to the body, relationship issues and not enough foreplay.

Considering our global average for total sexual intercourse time of roughly four minutes, it’s safe to say that most couples don’t spend much time on foreplay. This can be an issue since, according to Tantric principles, a woman’s body needs much more time to fully awaken and reach states of ecstasy and true orgasm. I usually recommend at least 30 minutes of foreplay, preferably more.

If you don’t believe that women fake orgasms, or that there’s a remote possibility you’ve ever been with a woman who faked an orgasm, see the video clip below for Meg Ryan’s spectacular and convincing fake orgasm. Ahem, so that’s settled then.

Even when they are having orgasms, many female clients I meet only experience short, superficial clitoral orgasms, leaving them feeling exhausted and depleted afterward. Very few women experience deeper internal orgasms or the feeling of dissolving into orgasmic bliss or expanding into an ecstasy that is actually part of every woman’s sexual potential.

A friend of mine was taught in high school sex education that 90% of women cannot have internal orgasms, so she didn’t bother even trying to have anything but clitoral orgasms. My own sex education in Australia in the 90s basically consisted of putting a condom on a banana. This kind of disempowering, bogus “sex education” makes me annoyed.

Why not teach women that their body can be a wonderland of ecstatic bliss if they’ll only devote the time and energy to discovering its secrets? Why not teach men that they can have whole body non-ejaculatory orgasms? Why not teach all teenagers that sex can be sacred, profound, loving and deeply transforming when done consciously?

Most of us are never taught that there are more than 50 different kinds of female orgasm. The clitoris is just one tiny, little aspect of female sexuality. The real gold lies buried deeper in the Yoniverse (vagina)—the G-spot, the A-spot, and the cervix are all important places to get to know better.

Then there’s also whole body energetic orgasm, orgasm from nipple stimulation, vaginal canal orgasms, orgasms that come from your lover kissing your labia, the list goes on. Women usually need long, slow foreplay to experience these kinds of orgasms. Men need long foreplay too, to build the sexual energy gradually so they can last longer, connect deeper to their partner and develop higher sensitivity.

It’s not about chasing orgasms though, the idea is to become orgasmic. We want to feel the orgasmic energy flowing through our bodies for hours on end, interspersed with more intense orgasms, rather than just short peak experiences where we feel exhausted afterward.

During prolonged states of profound pleasure and orgasm, we let go of the mind, any stress and tensions, and relax into the fullness of who we are. The more often we can experience these states with awareness, the easier it is to release limiting ego patterns, become more conscious and connected to ourselves and our loved ones and feel our blissful nature in all areas of life. Sex becomes a deep spiritual practice.

So without further ado, here are my seven essential elements of Tantric foreplay:

1. Make sure you’re in a good mood and feeling connected,

Contrary to popular belief, foreplay doesn’t begin in the bedroom. It starts with making sure you’re in a good mood and feeling connected to yourself, then and only then can you truly connect with your lover. Do whatever you need to do before to feel relaxed, peaceful and present in your body: move around, dance, do yoga, meditate, run, have a bath. Just don’t go straight from work or being on the computer to play time! Take time to prepare yourself so you feel fresh and clean and wear something you feel good in.

2. Create an inspiring space,

Dirty dishes, piles of washing or paperwork, kids toys and clutter are just not a turn-on, ever. Take a little time to create an inspiring sacred space for your lovemaking. Some people say that the difference between Tantric sex and regular sex is incense and candles. That’s not exactly true, but I do really love lighting a few candles to set the mood and transform a mundane space into something more beautiful and magical. I strongly recommend banning all overhead lighting from your intimate experiences. Think soft, gentle lamp light and mood lighting. Throwing fabric over unseemly clutter works wonders too.

3. Connect in the heart first.

Take a few minutes to just sit together and tune in to your partner and let go of any distractions from your day. Simply hold hands, breath, close your eyes and feel the connection between you. Visualise love flowing between your hearts. Set the intention to be fully present, give your best to each other and have a beautiful experience together.

4. Let go of the idea of a goal.

In Tantric foreplay, we’re not just trying to get things wet enough to go on to the main event of penetration. We focus on being conscious in every moment, taking time to really feel, going slowly, developing a more refined sensitivity instead of going for more sensation. A slow warm-up is essential and makes for more ecstatic bliss later for everyone.

Men, don’t skip straight to the breasts or genitals, but take time to caress her whole body – there are many erogenous zones to discover! Keep the foreplay going for at least half an hour, no matter how much she begs for you to come inside. Just try it. Trust me. Also, for a change, don’t end in ejaculation and feel the difference in your energy level afterward.

5. Explore orally.

Traditionally, Tantric foreplay involves the man being more active, as his body generally doesn’t need as much time to warm up. I heard a joke once: For a man, there are basically only two types of foreplay: The first is waiting to have his penis touched, and the second is having his penis touched.

So, men, it is generally better to kiss her down there first and let her warm up deliciously slowly. Take time to get to know her intimately, don’t focus on the clitoris too much. Experiment with different tongue strokes. Realise how beautiful and sacred this part of her body is. Honor every inch of her.

6. Be intuitive, follow the flow, be spontaneous.

Most articles I’ve read about Tantric foreplay say things like, “Take a bath together, touch each other in this specific way, lick her toes one by one.” In reality, there is no set formula and it can be a danger to follow those kinds of specific instructions because everyone is different. It’s just about tuning in to your partner and feeling what connects you deeper and makes you more present together.

7. Above all else, strive to be present.

Keep your eyes open and the lights on most of the time. Stay present together. There is nothing sexier than someone fully present in their body, someone so conscious they can feel even the most subtle orgasmic energy and let it fill their whole body completely.

If you’re totally stuck in your mind, you can’t feel connected to your lover, and you definitely can’t dissolve into ecstatic orgasmic bliss! To become more present, just focus on the breath and the physical sensations in the body. If your mind wanders away, gently bring it back again and again to the present moment. Embrace the sensory experience fully.

Oh, and don’t forget to enjoy the journey!

Do you have any juicy foreplay tips I’ve missed?
I’d love to hear them, feel free to tell me in the comments below.

What’s That Again?

At the first kiss I felt something melt inside me that hurt in an exquisite way. All my longings, all my dreams and sweet anguish, all the secrets that slept deep within me came awake, everything was transformed and enchanted, everything made sense.

— Hermann Hesse

If You Want Me Come And Get Me

“If a man wants you, he will come and get you.” ~ Unknown

This time something feels different.

The storyline began long ago—but we both have a history of not finishing what we started.

This time—I’m hoping you’ll take the chance to run your fingertips over every one of my soft pages, reading every single word—even those said in between the sweet subtext of refuge.

Because this time, for you, I am an open book.

So baby, if you want me—come and get me. 

Come and surge through my door—because this time you know I’m ready for you.

Not just for the kisses that intoxicate us like the taste of electrifying absinth, but for the way you feel when we are together.

And while I may not know all the answers, something tells me, I inspire something different in you.

I am not professing to know the intricacies of your mind or heart—for one thing I’ve learned is, when you do want me to know something, I will.

And this time, I have no desire to rush you, or the endless amounts of time we could spend passionately working through the various endings to a love story, that we didn’t think we were ever going to read again.

I trust you enough to lead me.

Because however farfetched or unlikely it seems, I need to be lead at times and, for some reason, you take the reins like no one else.

That’s why this time, I’m leaving it up to you.

I think you know where I stand, and though I don’t have any conclusions about how this story will end, I do know the questions that I want to ask this time.

So, even though I want you, I’m not going to chase you.

If and when you decide that you want me, truly see what can grow in the most unlikely of places, then I trust you enough to choose the timing.

Although I can be a force to be reckoned with, I am more than that when I am with you.

And at one point I quaked in that role and fought against it, but now, it’s the pleasure of my simple undoing.

It is because of my strength that I need someone—yes, I said need—it is another thing I’ve learned this go around.

I do need someone.

I need a man, at times, to put me in my sweet place—not because I need to be told what to do, but because I need a man who is strong enough to know that I don’t really want to be so formidable.

I have lost my desire to lead.

Not that I will ever take a supporting role in my own life, but I also know that I don’t need to be in the starring role to make a difference in this world.

Because one thing I’ve learned is that I shine just as bright when I am quiet, with tears streaming paths down my soft cheeks. I don’t need to be the loudest, I can simply be myself and that is enough.

And though that may change on a daily basis—some days I may still roar, on most occasions I will simply just purr.

So, baby if you want me—come and get me.

Because I am a ripe peach, waiting for your teeth to sink into me, letting the sweet juices flow down your chin.

I am softness and understanding, just within your reach.

My eyes will tell you every sweet and bitter honesty—even if you don’t always wish to hear it.

Because this time, I’m not trying to be someone who I think you would want—I’m simply being myself.

While I may be filled with an endless array of contradictions, this is who I really am.

And I know myself well enough to know that anyone who truly wants me will come and get me.

And it won’t matter if a man knows all the answers, I am a question he can’t stop trying to figure out.

What may stand in the way or how ridiculous it may all seem, won’t matter to him.

If a man truly wants me, he won’t let anything stand in the way.

And, maybe you don’t really want me—maybe this could be all a game, one that I simply didn’t learn my lesson from before.

Maybe it is all about sex.

But, maybe it’s not—I wish to be judged for who I am now and not the crazy, train wreck of a woman who couldn’t look herself in the mirror, then I have to trust in the man you have become too.

I have no choice but to trust your words and the language of your eyes and hands.

So this time, baby, if you do want me—all you have to do is come and get me.

~Relephant Via Kate Rose

Scale

Does size really matter?

Domesticated

He shoved her roughly onto the kitchen table, causing dishes to crash to the floor and condiments to dig into her arched back. He mounted her just as roughly, his body crushing hers until his arms found a place on either side of her head and a knee wedged itself between her thighs.

Effectively, she was trapped in by a wall of such strong masculinity. In one strong pull; he ripped her blouse open, the buttons stinging her face like rubber bullets. With a few more tugs, the bright silk garment lay crumpled and torn, discarded on the floor.

His movements were harsh and spastic as he roamed around her body. Hard hands bruising tender flesh. She struggled involuntarily under the crushing weight of his body.

Impatience causes him to grab a nearby knife to cut off any and all remaining articles of clothing. Her lacy black bra fell first, followed shortly by her cotton skirt. Her nylons proved to be a challenge. He nicked her half a dozen times before finally getting them off.

After what seemed like ages but was, in reality, a couple of minutes, she was completely exposed. By now his desire was threatening to rip his front open and she could feel the terrible pressure and heat on her thigh.

Three seconds and his garment were undone. Another three seconds and he was inside… An outcry of pain escaped her lips as he quickened the pace even further. His grin was wicked, the fear left her eyes. Her cries were that of pleasure now.

They climaxed soon after and he dismounted her abruptly. She went upstairs, her head held high to get dressed and freshen up before heading back to work.

Leaving her unemployed husband home to clean up his mess.

---

I found this excerpt in my old documents. I don’t remember writing it and I have no idea how it gets there. I received tons of materials from friends and acquaintances I long lost track of their origins. They are from a file labeled “strangers” I don’t know what that means. Anyway, I find that it fits the prompt quite well. Literally.

Serially Yours (Part One)

There was this gorgeous natural pool between two mountains with cute, small waterfall descending from one side and a river with reasonable fast current down on the other side with a picturesque bamboo bridge across.

I like the place because it was kind of private, peaceful and the fauna and flora were simply breath-taking. I was stripped down from the waist up and ready to hit the water when I saw her.

She didn’t see me at first; she was deep in thoughts concentrating on negotiating the narrow, steep path leading down to the pool. She was wearing a blue bikini with green and yellow flower pattern with a matching pareo tied around her hips. She was so beautiful! The sight of her almost took my breath away.

When she was almost at the bottom of the steps, she saw me. A strange mixture of surprise and fear (?) registered on her face. But that was only for a fraction of a second, she quickly pivoted on her heels and run!

But I was quick. I only wanted to stop her and talk, thinking this maybe my only chance to catch her alone, I simply cannot let her go away.

 I caught up with her easily. This is my terrain, my playground; I know this place better than anyone, I grew up here, negotiating treacherous surfaces is a second nature to me. She on the other hand is a city girl, I know. Too bad for her.

When I reached her something I never planned happened. What I did was___ grabbed her, turned her towards me, pulled her closer and kissed her passionately. It happened so fast she didn’t get the chance to react. Why she must tasted so sweet and so soft to hold I right away lost control of myself?

I pulled her even closer against me, she let a moan, she said: “Oh, Michael.” And went limp in my arms.  My knees buckled, my legs turned to Jell-O, my mind went blank, and suddenly the world had stop from turning. I heard thunder and lightning everywhere and I was stiff as a pole.

When I carried and laid her on the grass, she did not resist. It was starting to get dark. When I lay next to her; she closed her eyes and bit her lips. We kissed hungrily for a while, touching, exploring. I was only beginning to discover where everything is. I never realized that a kiss could taste like heaven I didn’t want to stop.

The moment I removed her bikini top, she gave me a look I never seen before anywhere or from anyone in my life. Not even on her. All I know was what the look did to my blood ‒ boil!

When I pulled the rest of the bikini all the way down, she clung to me passionately, we’re like two people drowning; very fast and there was no tomorrow. When I entered her, I thought I was going to pass out from ecstasy. It was good. No, better than good, better than anything I have ever experience so far, it was worth dying twice over.

When I murmured in her ear that I have no idea it would be like this, she said: “You don’t see nothing yet.” And she showed me. Not one, not twice, but six times over!

We laid side by side afterwards looking at the moon.

Then she said: “Now, what?”

images: 4ever.eu & pinterest

Décolleté

…mine is nonexistent. I can be pregnant, gain weight, stand on my head; they stay looking like a twelve year old might have under her shirt.

I remember an ex-boyfriend said to me once to cut half of what down “there” and put it up “here”. I broke up with him right away. The jerk! It took me only three days to get over him.

Sad to say, but he’s not the only one with the same opinion. A friend and neighbour once told me under the influence of one too many beer that I could have been “sexy” if I have a decent bumper. I told her, hers is nothing to write home about either. Good that we were both in drunken stupor or otherwise…

I myself have no real problem with what I’ve got. In fact, I’m thanking my lucky star that mine is next to nothing; at my age and after two children…if I have a huge pair, it could be hanging on my lap by now. I have to confess though that I almost never breastfed. I tried for three months but my milk wasn’t sufficient enough my GP advised me to stop and never do it again.

If I’m being brutally honest, the only thing I have a bit of trouble about are my “tips.” They are very pointy and huge and look as if they are always in cold. It shows even through my brassiere. (I know there are some pads exist for this sort of problem; tried them, no good, never again) I heard it’s a fashion nowadays, pointy nipples… I even saw one episode of Sex and the City where Samantha was wearing fake ones. It was hilarious when she removed and threw them in the middle of the party. 

Another thing is__ I hate brassiere. I have few lying around somewhere, but I rarely use them; only if I really, really have to. They’re uncomfortable and they choke me! Must be something to do with growing up and not owning one for the simplest of reason that I could not afford to buy them that time.  My first training bra was bought by my adviser when I was a freshman. She couldn’t  stand that her leading character in the winning school play would go on stage bra-less.

And I don’t even know why I am writing this aside from I’m suffering (again) from lack of sleep and feeling rebellious that I can’t celebrate my birthday because I have to work..