Sex

Articles, ideas and thoughts about sex

A sexual poltergeist?

Please be advised, that this is an erotica story with explicit sexual content as well as descriptive scenes involving sexual practices and /or language, as part of the story line and plot that may offend some readers. This material is not recommended for anyone under the age of nineteen years old.

Tilly Rivers
By Tilly Rivers

© 2017 Tilly Rivers ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The first few nights it happened he was not sure if he was caught between a dream or another world, to believe otherwise, that this was in fact happening, that he was visited by some type of sexual organism that fed from his body as he half slept, that this amazing being gave him the most intense ejaculations of his life was insane. His own vivid dark desires coming alive from his mind?

Fuck! What was this thing? A sexual poltergeist?
Even thinking about it both excited him and convinced him he was losing his mind. Fuck it, he knew it was true! This amazing female mischievous spirit or imp or outer body vision had come to him in the middle of the night. Not once but twice. He no longer cared what it was called, spirit or a woman, what did it matter? Like a selfish fuck he only cared that she came back and made his body turn to fire, cradle his hard cock in her moist heat. He only cared that his cum shot so hard it drenched them both with the explosive blast.

He had felt her. Really felt her, not a spirit; a warm body, curves of heat descending under his covers. Saw her shape, knew by the way the sheet moved that she was crawling up his body from toes to groin.

Each night it had been the same pattern. When he was sleeping when she entered waiting until he was in an almost trance like spell. His body however had never felt freer, more alive, more stimulated in his life.

The white cover lifted from his feet. Instantly he felt the tingling heat of her form. A warm wet moisture covered his flesh with the beginnings of acute longing. Flames and tongue as one licking him. His flesh absorbed the heat from the inside out before flashing outwards to burn with sharp, piercing fervor. A stirring of lust so strong it was nearly painful. The sweetest most erotic sense of torture.

Tonight however would be different.
If she came this night he wanted to partake of his own free will. He planned on asking her not to place any type of trance on him, he did not need it, he welcomed her, thought about her in his dreams a million times, and now that she has come to him, he wanted the chance to make her feel the same level of limitless desire.

Tonight, he planned on asking her permission to ride him with her fire not only her mouth. Tonight he was greedy. He wanted to know how far this union could go, discover if indeed his special visitor could cum as well.Tonight he wanted more.

He waited until the air turned into thousands of tiny heat particles; “Please” he said no louder than a whisper on the wings of the wind. “I want you. I want to give us both pleasure, is that possible?”

Her response was voiceless yet clear in his mind. A mystical sound floating in his thoughts “Yes, it is possible. Are you not frightened?”

“I am more frightened of never having a chance like this again in my life than I am of you. May I see you?”

Before him he gazed in wonder as the air gathered and spun forming her shape.

“You are very beautiful” He blushed a little when he thought about how silly it was to be telling this being she was beautiful. Yet she was and he needed to voice the words. “Can you read my thoughts?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

Could she also read his body?

“Yes. Your hunger called me, that is why I have come. I needed to feed.”

He wanted to ask her what realm she was from, wanted to find out what she was talking of, yet he discovered that the answers to these questions were not nearly as important as being with her. Now. For he understood one thing she spoke of, he too needed to feed. To taste again the pure blue flame.

He removed the sheet from his naked form in invitation. “Feed” He had to have her, savor the heat. She came to him; the spark in her eyes was full of impish delight. He felt flesh on flesh. She was so much more. Of this realm: yet not. Woman: yet not. She was real, somewhere in this world she lived and walked as a woman, had the power to project herself into this form and feed in a new realm that he did not understand.

His hands caressed her slowly. He watched in fascination. Everywhere his hand moved, her form changed to a sparkling blue. Flames of transparent stimulation. Lust uninhibited.

Her body bent backwards and his eyes widened as her hair flowed down her spine like a brimstone river, raising himself to his knees he buried his hands in her hair and pulled her into his hungry lips.

Taking her mouth he savagely feed from her, his hunger was uncontrollable and he drank the crackling current of energy. Pulling his mouth from hers he looked into her eyes, penetrating them with his own. He would find her he vowed at that moment, he would find this woman and claim her as his own.

Pressing her body into his he kissed her again. He knew somehow that she craved this, kissing, sharing of essence from one to the other. Linking breath, tongue, lips and drinking from the other. Kissing slowly, passionately, deeply, kissing until your body craved more, until you had to have, needed, craved, devoured the other.

Once more his lips met hers, desperate now that they have tasted the other, desperate to sip the saccharine juice. Passion unmeasured. Desire without control. Placing his hands on her shoulders he slammed her into the mattress, pulled and turned her under him. Without thought he rammed his hard cock uncontrollably into her wet waiting heat.

Hard.

Deep thrusts surging in and out of her pussy. The smell of sex perfumed the air and he breathed it is as a wild animal would the scent of discovering a female bitch in heat.

Mingled moans vibrated in his ears, her pussy clenched and moved in turn with each feral plunge. She was demanding more. Feeding from him, urging him to keep going. He took while giving. She gave while taking.

His cock slide in her clenching pussy walls over and over. Pulling out he grasped her hips and told her to turn over, entering her from behind. Rammed, pushed, pulled until he thought he would go crazy with the estacy. Paradise.

His body shuddered as he shot his load in her. Sprays of heat filling her hot core until it was running down her thighs. Still streams of liquid fire streamed from his cock head, his balls contracted, his shaft grew impossibly harder. The last stream of release shot into her moist heat before he pulled out of her throbbing pussy.

Taking her entire clit in her mouth he savoured the taste, switching between loving bites and quick tongue strokes lapping up the magik of them.

He woke with a start and looked around the empty room…

~~~~ To be continued ~~~~

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What Happens

What Happens

Tilly Rivers Copyright 2005, all rights reserved

What happens when, there is nothing left of your dream–Except the dust on the floor?

What happens when, you just do not care, can not find your way out of the despair?

What happens when, who you believed in proves to be a lie?

What happens when, you can’t fight anymore?

What happens when, you are tired of standing strong, being alone?

What happens when, you need someone to share the load except only your shadow is there?

What happens when, you beg the world to help…help the dream dust become real once more?

What happens when, the answer is silence?

What happens? Damn it! What happens than?

tilly-rivers-1-23-2107

Ladies: Fun Ways to Boot out a One-Night-Stand

© Copyright Tilly Rivers 2005, all rights reserved

It’s an equal opportunity world peeps, women can and do have one-night stands; and this is a  ‘just-for-laughs’ list on how to boot out that guy in the morning that seems a little too clingy.

{Note: for the haters, no I am not advocating one night stands, nor am I saying that you should do it- that choice belongs to the individual}

1. Ask him what his ten-year plan is for your future children…
2. Look him directly in the eye and ask him if he would like to serve you breakfast in bed….for the rest of your life.
3. Wake up with a stretch and say… “Man I had this horrible dream that I was with this guy that”… look over and exclaim, “oh sorry…”
4. Get on the phone and pretend to be looking for the justice of peace in your area…. When he looks at you strangely, cover the mouthpiece and say. “ But you said we were going to elope last night…don’t you remember?”
5. Ask him for his mother’s number so you can set a family meeting…
6. Tell him he is worthy of being introduced to your…ten…cats…
7. Ask him if he thinks the laws for stalkers are too serious….
8. Pretend to be looking for clothes in your closet and mumble that you just know your mother’s wedding dress is in here some where….
9. Roll over and ask your make believe friend Mage if she likes the man in your bed, and than have a fight why he is just the perfect one….
10. Invite him over for the weekend at your place on planet Xaina… the third planet from the tenth sun, in the second solar system….

No One Will Listen. A tale of truth or fiction?

By: Tilly Rivers, © Copyright protected, 2004, all rights reserved.

I sat across from him and waited while he just looked at me. His eyes held a connotation that I wanted to decipher, what was it he was trying to tell me with his eyes?

“You’re very beautiful.”

Not what I was expecting. Not the reason I was there. He had contacted me, not the other way around; told me he wanted to tell me his story- wanted me to write it without using his name, I was intrigued, but was I foolish?-Was this just a way to meet me? Was I crazy, meeting a stranger in a coffee shop? A stranger that told me he sold his body for money and wanted to tell the truth about what it was like to be a male in the sex-for-sale game.

“Thank you.” I replied and he smiled, I noticed his voice was very monotone, he was stating a fact about my beauty, much like one would discuss the weather.

His laughter was full. “You think I am hitting on you?” his smile widened, and there was a light in his eyes for the first time in the past twenty minutes that we had sat in mostly silence. If you pay attention, you often learn more from the silence of another if you’re patient and don’t give into a natural instinct to fill the void with the sound of your own voice. Not today though, I had more questions, and no answers.

“It had crossed my mind.” I’ve always been one to speak the truth, in my line of work to tell lies had serious consequences, the truth, even if the other party didn’t like it, was always the safest option. “Are you?”

“No.” His voice was just above a whisper; however it caught my attention as if he screamed it across the room. There was a wishful note that captured me. Did he think that he had no right to flirt like the rest of the world does?

He looked at the light brown liquid in his cup, I never understood the need to add copious amounts of cream and sugar to your coffee, I always preferred mine straight up. I watched him watching his coffee much like a fortune teller reading tea-leaves analyzed the contents, and waited.

“Most of us do not remember how it started. The beginning is not what matters; it is the end that counts.”

“What is the end?”

“Right now. This very second the end continues. Sitting here with you and seeing beauty knowing you can never be part of it.”

“Why can’t you be part of it?”

“Do you know why I picked you to write my story? I’ve read your work and I can feel your passion. Passion has always eluded me, like a fairy tale or a myth, passion and love, they are like Santa Claus to me they don’t really exist. When you sell your body on the streets in order to survive you become numb to anything that resembles reality, you want to believe, you pretend, and some still carry hope, but the harsh truth always wins. You have never been touched by that kind of dark reality.” He looked up at me than, with those intense eyes of his and continued speaking in a hushed voice so I had to lean in to hear him.

“If I was to hazard a guess I’d say that when you share your body, your partner’s walk away not knowing what had just hit them…they haven’t a clue that they have been just touched with the pure essence of passion. Yet I am betting that they keep coming back…fight to keep coming back…and do not have a clue why…only that they have to touch you…touch the heat…one more time.”

“That is very flattering, but we aren’t here to talk about my sex life.”

“Do your partners wear a condom when you have shared your passion my dear?” He did not wait for my answer “Society pushes condoms; they are after all the miracle cure to all STD’s right? They protect you from AIDS, the magic cape that makes you superman. Untouchable.”

“Against condoms?”

“Hell no! But I am against men and women not understanding that a condom will not protect you unconditionally. I am against society and the media filling our brains with the notion that buying a condom will make all your worries go away.”

“Most people realize that the only true protection is abstinence.”

He grinned “Do you abstain? Come on. Sex is as much a part of our nature as breathing and eating…more so.”

I could hardly argue with the truth. “You weren’t your average Gigolo though. You catered to high society.”

“Gigolo, cute phrase don’t you think? Makes you think of a life filled with glamour. I mean women in the sex trade are called  prostitutes and hookers, and men get a cute upscale phrase like gigolo or escort. What I was sweetheart was a man…just a man…who cared so little about himself that he was willing to fuck anyone who could pay.”

I ignored the ‘sweetheart’ comment “Some have chosen this life-style and the money it brings them. Society has come to accept it more and more, some States have any legalized the sex trade.”

“You truly think that the sex trade is a chosen career path? Most were sexually abused and rationalize their actions with fucking bullshit like at least this way I have the power over my body and who touches me.”

“Men and women?”

“For me, yes. Older men. Young boys, who were experimenting, closet Gay men…as long as they had the money; men paid more, especially professional men leading a double life. As for the women, Cops wives, lawyer’s wives, wives of upscale professional men who are so fucking stupid that while he was banging his mistress he had no idea that his woman was buying me my new car with fuck money. Are they really so stupid to think they are pulling one over their wife or girlfriend? She knows, she just doesn’t give a shit anymore, she knows the relationship is about paying the bills and finds her happiness elsewhere, just like he does. The funny part? The men are so blind that they have no idea that they are being played, they think the little woman is happy at home.”

“Did you always wear a condom?”

“No. If my client asked me to ride him or her bare back, I did. For an extra fee of course.”
He paused ever so slightly before continuing “We are after all invincible right? It could not happen to me…AIDS, HIV; they are for other people right? I mean it is not like they did not know what I was, they were paying me for fuck’s sake, but somehow, some magic indestructible way it would be okay, and we are above disease.”

“Are you HIV positive? Have you infected one of your clients?”

“Client…how politically correct of you. Clients are for Investment Bankers. I did not start in this racket as a high class gigolo. I doubt anyone does. The illusion. The top of the line clothes, best apartment, best, fastest cars, drugs…. All window dressing. I began on the streets, a fuck for sale so I could eat, so I could sleep in a bed that night…it is the way we all begin.”

“How did you get on the streets?”

“Know one wants to listen…ever noticed that? The youth of our society, they do not need to listen…we are, after all talking through our hats right? Don’t know shit. Who listens? No one wants to admit that there is a dark side to each of us, that maybe it’s your husband having back-door sex with another man, that it’s your wife fucking a gigolo. The young ones are playing within the sex trade and don’t even know it, as simple as a few sexy poses on the internet, wanting to feel like they are a model or some such stupid shit- they won’t listen to their parents telling them to smarten the fuck up, they won’t listen to me, and they won’t listen to you. We all have a story, but no one will listen.”

“If you truly believe that, then why am I here?”

“I’ve read your poetry.”

“Stalk much?” That he knew I wrote poetry surprised me, few did, his comment should of made me uncomfortable, instead I was even more intrigued. Who was this man who read poetry while catering to the whims of high society men and women?

“You have an amazing insight towards life, but there is an innocence about you.”

“I’ve seen too much to be innocent.”

“No one will listen. No one wants to believe that the dark exists, that the hooker, the call girl, the gigolo…” he smiled and paused over the word, “Are someone’s child…someone’s mother, father, brother, sister. Lost souls in the dark, like some-sort of vampire living without the sun.”

“I’m here, I’m listening.”

“Have you ever known a fear so great that it has become your best friend: because it has blocked out the world? It has covered your sins in shadow; it has become the only thing you know? Have you ever been so desperate to escape the pain, to just escape…that you were willing to sell your soul if you could get one more fix?”

“No.”

“Have you ever welcomed the dark, so you could just stop thinking, stop feeling…stop hurting?”

“No.”

“Have you ever sold your body, so you could pretend? Close your eyes and pretend, that some one really cared…that someone loved you?”

“No.”

“Have you ever watched your best friend die of AIDS? Have you ever been walking down the street and have a gun fired at the guy beside you because he could not pay his drug money that week? Watch his blood stain the sidewalk?”

“No.”

“Have you ever taken your brand new sports car that was bought by flesh money: drunk, stoned, and drive it as fast as you possibly could into a hydro pole on purpose just to end it, because there is no other way out?”

“No.”

He took my hand and kissed the top of it. “Keep it that way.” He stood “I’ve changed my mind about telling my story, it won’t make a difference, and no one will listen.”

I watched him leave, I knew he spoke the truth, no one wants to know, and no one would listen.

sometimes-in-life-we-just-need-someone-who-will-be-there-for-us-someone-who-will-listen-someone-who-quote-1~~~~~~~~~~End~~~~~~~~~~

Wisteria Robe

18202Copyright ©2006 Rain Publishing Inc. From the book: Wisteria Moon, Author: Tilly Rivers

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

ISBN 10: 1-897381-07-7
ISBN 13: 978-1-897381-07-6

Cover Design and layout by
Kara Elsberry

Printed in Canada

CAUTION: Please be advised that Wisteria Moon is an erotica genre.  There is explicit sexual content as well as descriptive scenes and language involving sexual practices as part of the storyline and plot.

Dedication

To the one that is capable of dancing with my mind as well as my body.  The Key.   To lady moon and the mystic sun.  To the realms of beyond and under, over and around, for here is where you will find me.

WISTERIA ROBE

He went to the altar, laid his hand upon the stone and closed his eyes, calling the Wisteria Witch….

He watched the group of men and women gathered around the stone altar and breathed in the singing air of anticipation of what was to come.

The blanket of night and fog billowed around them like a mystic covering from the outside world.

The mist-formed shapes left impressions of embracing lovers. The ebony sky glimmered with an aura of power and waited for her presence.

The legend of the Wisteria Witch and her robe ceremony was deeply embedded in her homeland.

The tale of the sexual ritual of a witch, a high priestess with profound powers, was whispered among the natives in equal parts of fear and awe.
Few truly witnessed the sacred ceremony.

The ones that did witness kept its secrets.

The whispered chants of her name floated in the air. The goddess they all sought and feared. She was pure, raw sexuality manifested.

The willow and rowan swayed softly in unison with their partner zephyr. Leaf, branch, and wind merged under the moon performing nature’s own sexual rite.

He was uncertain of what to expect within the folds of the wisteria robe ceremony. He only knew that he was meant to be here. He felt the calling; the pull that tonight would alter his life and he welcomed the change.

He stood with pride and confidence under the soft velvet folds of the wisteria robe. The material stimulated your naked flesh; tiny life-like sparks caressed you everywhere at once, molding to your frame, worshipping you.

Naked glimpses of bodies teased the senses everywhere you looked. Hard nipples of women pushed enticingly against the caressing robes. Secret shadows and soft moans were hints of urgent passion flaring.

The hoods of the robes covered the guests’ faces adding to the aura of secrecy and sensual mystery unlike any other.

He was part of the semicircle around the back of the altar, yet felt apart. Tonight he would be the chosen one to touch her. He knew it because he felt the call and waited.

The mist flared higher, changing their frantic pose, colors mixed with the transparent miasma.

She was close. Her presence was felt before her form appeared. Currents of sweetness bred. His body tingled with sensation as the robe altered from light touches to excited petting motions, opening the full breadth and beauty of the sensual.

His body eased with joyful sensation, letting the robe and his surroundings touch him in ecstasy. From his inner core, an inside flame ignited to an overwhelming energy of linked spiritual lust.

Each body became combined to one. A current of pure lust, massage of heat, a force, as desire and passion expanded from the inside to the outside covering of flesh. Power. Raw hunger of each thought, each caress, each sensation of the group now one.

Cardinal desire fused heightened feelings of need until they no longer were a mass but one sensation of savage sexual essence.

Soft blue flickers of breath formed a ring of fire around her ankles. Worshipping, feeding.

Her gown was transparent, violet threads of glimmered nothing, touching her curves like a waterfall of desire. The garment split down the front of her being, drawing your attention to each secret tease of her body.

Her hair flowed loose, tickling the back of her neck and shoulders. The soft blue flames of luminous light flowed as she walked. Each step of pure blue flame floated around her, disappearing only to reappear again as each step glided closer to the altar and the gathered pagans that had come.

This night.
The night of the wisteria robe.
This witch.
The night of the wisteria witch.

No one moved as the ring of blue circled behind his or her body. No one moved, as the flames grew higher, alive. The flame ring crackled with vitality, forming a complete circle around them.

He thought about the flame and that there was no heat.

She turned to him with a tiny wisp of a smile. Her voiceless words echoed softly in his mind. “No heat?”

His body instantly withered with intense desire, need, and cravings of sexual release. “No earthly heat,” he corrected instantly and her smile widened before reducing the erotic torture.

Pausing at the stone altar she slowly slid her fingers under the violet strands of her gown. Instantly, hands of creatures not seen before, were there to remove the garment. He watched the small creatures, her slaves, with fascinated interest.

Small, almost troll-like beings swarmed her. Here, gone instantly. Conjured images.

Hundreds burst into the circle surrounding her naked form, fingers caressing and pulling at her body. She pet them with tenderness as one would a beloved dog or cat.

One was braver, or the leader. He placed his hand on her smooth mound. His finger rammed inside her folds. Her head snapped back. The wind carried the scream of her moan to every watching pagan. The jolt of sensation she was feeling quivered in each of them.

Moans filled the air, echoing her gasps. Her body twisted in shared ecstasy.

He stood transfixed as he watched the creatures touch her. He felt his skin tingle, indents of invisible fingers moved along his burning body. Every touch, every burning caress upon her flesh was transcended onto each of the worshippers.

Standing within the ring of fire he watched as the creatures lifted her reverently unto the altar. She waved her fingers to them and smiled.

Each creature went to the guests, removing the robes. Her commands rolled silently, a melody of desire calling to her pets. She spoke to them as to whom she would be choosing this night.

The chant of “me” rang out. Silent pleads in their minds. Linked thoughts.

“Me. Let the wisteria witch choose me.”

Each had a deep-rooted appetite to be the one. “Me.” The voices grew louder, more urgent and he heard his own voice mingled with the others. “Me,” he begged, “Please me.”

The creature came closer to him and he smiled. Yes. Yes.

The imp looked up and smiled back only to take the hand of the female next to him. A shudder went through the crowd, equal parts disappointment at not being the chosen one mixed with excitement.

They all knew that with each sensation that the wisteria witch felt, they too would feel. Each touch, each soft gasp would vibrate to their very core and burn inside their flesh.

He watched as the eager chosen one ran to the altar to worship the witch lying there. He watched and felt the chosen one’s lips kiss the sole of the witch’s feet, waiting for permission to touch her.

The crowd waited in awe as the witch gave a small nod of her head giving the chosen female permission to continue.

His flesh quivered as the chosen one’s tongue licked up the witch’s calf to her inner thigh and finally to her pulsating wet pussy.

They all tasted her as the chosen one was, like the nectar of heaven.

Bodies around him began to merge, partners, groups, touching. Lying upon the earth, they copied the actions of the chosen one worshipping the witch.

He resisted the need to be one in the group, standing, feeling, and watching the two women on the altar, the goddess and the chosen one feeding from the flesh of the witch.

The creatures joined the withering bodies on the ground, partaking in the offerings, licking the women’s heated pussies, playing with their sensitive breasts, biting nipples from one to the other, taking them to the edge of release only to pause. Sensual torture.

Control broke; men rammed their aching cocks in wet holes of pussy, mouth, and ass. Hands grasped, pulled and pushed.

Harder movements, deep thrusts, release. Cocks being mouth fucked. Couples were on all fours, beasts and beauty fusing to one.

He stood and watched her, felt the sensations of the crowd, of the wisteria witch and nearly screamed with the need to be inside her. The witch lifted her head. “Forward,” she beckoned him. His steps were quick, eager and he too kissed the sole of her feet, waiting for her commands.

“Suck him,” she commanded the female slave. “Suck his hard cock for me.” The chosen one eagerly did the witch’s bidding; placing her lips still coated in her pussy juice over the head of his cock.

His eyes locked with that of the goddess as the slave sucked his cock.

“What do you want?”

“To bury my cock so fucking deep inside your pussy that you scream; to fuck you so hard that we no longer know dark from light, or sin from good. I want to be the beast that feeds and is fed from you until I scream.”

“Let me watch you fuck her. Fuck her like you want to fuck me.”

The chosen one crawled on the altar beside the goddess, lifting her ass in the air for him. Her tongue snaked out to the waiting pussy of the witch. Placing her hands behind her back, arching her body forward, the witch positioned herself so she was capable of watching him slide his cock inside the other and still be able to see the slave lick her pussy.

The crowd moaned and gyrated around them. Pagan slaves in sensual hunger. Feeding, being fed the gifts from the wisteria witch. The creatures lapped up the flesh of the bodies and they moved as one entity upon the earth around the three on the altar above them.

His cock rammed inside the chosen one’s pussy folds. With each thrust he thought of the goddess. Bucking his body harder and deeper into the woman who was moaning under him as she continued to lick and suck the sweet pussy of the witch.

Her tongue jutted in and out of the witch’s wet heat, until the witch placed her hand on the woman’s head and commanded her to move.

The three changed positions, as he knelt in front of her and placed his hands under the witch’s ass. The witch placed her feet on the stone plank on either side of him, lifted her pelvis and met his urgent trust.

So wet. So hot.

Her pussy met his, thrust after urgent thrust. The female slave, licked, caressed and touched each of them as they took from the other until they both screamed into the night under the power of the moon and the blessing of the willow and the rowan trees.

Took until the night blanket became the break of dawn, the blue flames became morning haze. They took until the echo of the wisteria witch’s cry of ecstasy ran over the homeland.

He watched the group of men and women depart. Breathing in the singing air of what they experienced; the ritual of the Wisteria Robe. The secrets buried within.

Once more he went back to the altar. Laid his hand upon the stone and closed his eyes. Calling the wisteria witch….

The Role of Emotions in Orgasm

PLEASE NOTE: I’m not a sex expert, specialist, therapist or professional. I’m just a girl that has studied sex, this is an opinion, nothing more.

~~~~

When pioneer sex researchers Masters and Johnson studied human sexual response, they chose men and women who were easily orgasmic and observed them masturbate to orgasm in a lab.  Sorry, I have to say it, cause I know everyone is thinking it- NOW that’s a job…and how I wonder does one go about interviewing for that test?

Anyway ~smiles~ apparently  they found that men and women could reach orgasm in about the same amount of time. Surprised? The results painted a picture of more similarities than differences in sexual responsiveness, with women actually having the upper hand so to speak. (couldn’t resist) In the lab, women demonstrated the ability to be multiorgasmic whereas men failed to come through with more than one orgasm at a time. WOOO HOOOOO…gotta love the ‘multi’

 

Touch me, Tilly Rivers

 

A theory of sexual response based on controlled laboratory research is one thing but real life experience tells another story. (Controlled they say, what exactly does that mean?  The test did not go into details about what ‘stimulation’ was used. Oh…my mind is a zinging now….)

In a more representative sample of men and women, 61% of women who engaged in self-pleasuring always or usually experienced an orgasm vs. 82 % of men; yet only 29% of women reported always having an orgasm during sex with a partner vs. 75% of men.  BOYS- are you paying attention here?

Women clearly have more difficulty finding their way to orgasm in the context of a relationship than do men.

From a medical perspective, men are somewhat more pre“dick”table. (Oh come on- that was hilarious) It has been assumed that if a man can keep his erection throughout intercourse then he will have an orgasm 98% of the time. And for the other 2% there is that little blue pill ~smiles~

The test went on to say: “This assumption stems from a medical model of sex that can be more easily understood as the friction model. The friction model of sex is straightforward, mechanical, and genitally focused. Take an erect penis, apply a sufficient level of stimulation, and voila, the result will be ejaculation and orgasm.”  You think!

“Female sexual response has proven to be more complex.” The test said; “After 8 years of research and several large-scale placebo-controlled studies involving approximately 3,000 women, Pfizer, the maker of Viagra, has ditched efforts to demonstrate that Viagra is an effective treatment for women. Simply improving blood flow to women’s genitals hasn’t translated into significant improvements in women’s subjective sense of sexual arousal or their ability to have an orgasm.”

It took a test to figure that out? Of course us girls need more then blood flow- we are psychological in nature and therefore common sense says we need stimulation for arousal. For (most) women, psychological, emotional, and relationship factors play a greater role in determining ability to orgasm. For (most) women they need a sense of emotional connection with their partners, not just a genital one, to get them started on the pathway to pleasure.

“Orgasm itself”, sex therapist David Reed says, :requires the act of surrendering to the moment. Surrendering means staying with the good sensations and not focusing on distractions — am I too fat, do I smell bad, am I making too much noise, oh no! I have to pee — and it requires trust and a feeling of safety to let go and enter such an emotionally vulnerable state.”

Trust and safety cannot be dispensed in pill form or squeezed from a tube. These factors need to be nurtured, and women gain confidence through a partner that GETS it- and is willing to take the time to create an environment of stimulation. Having a partner you like, who you do not fear, who you can talk to, who does not pressure you, and who is patient and willing to learn more about emotional and physical needs is a great start.  And the pay off is great, mind blowing sex for two!

However, if you are running into other obstacles to orgasm such as those resulting from past experiences of physical, sexual, or emotional abuse; general personality problems with attachment, rejection, co-operation, or entitlement; depression or anxiety; and sexual inhibition due to fear of sexual acts or of their possible consequences, e.g. pain during intercourse, pregnancy, sexually transmitted disease, loss of partner, loss of reputation, etc. you will likely require more than an understanding partner.

The standard sex therapy line is that you have to get to know your body first before you can teach someone else how to please you. While that may be true and there are wonderful self-help books and videos to get you started, if you are already able to experience orgasm by yourself but are having much more difficulty when you’re with a partner, seek the help of a qualified sex counselor or therapist to help you along. There is NO SHAME in that, and you can gain back your sexual confidence and pleasure zone!