I was once with a man who was quiet as a church mouse. Each time we engaged in fellacio he would he would hold his breath and clench his jaws in an attempt to keep his cool. When a hiss escaped his lips he would quickly contain himself. It was a buzz kill because he spent more energy keeping his cool than enjoying sex.
I wanted him to lose control, to break all barriers and just be in the moment. But he couldn’t. And I couldn’t bring myself to ask him either. Sex became a war of wills. His will to contain himself and my will to do whatever I could to make him explode. Only problem is my pleasure didn’t fit into that equation. …
I discovered my clitoris by accident. I didn’t know what it was or what it looked like. All I knew was that when I cleaned myself after peeing, something felt good. One day I decided to investigate this sensation.
I laid down with my legs apart, eager to learn parts of my body that were both mysterious and shameful. I felt my way through my panties, past the labia majora, labia minora, and landed on a soft, tender tissue that was somewhat sensitive to touch. Curiously I taped on- it felt good. As I increased the pressure rhythmically, the pleasure built up till it erupted, throwing me into waves of ecstasy and pure joy. …
A friend once said 9 out of 10 people masturbate, and the tenth person is a liar. She was right, masturbation is one of the first things we learn to do in the womb. This curiosity continues with us through toddlerhood, childhood and adulthood. But somewhere in our formative years we learn that self-pleasuring is wrong.
Growing up, I remember the shame around masturbation and sex. I remember how adults tiptoed around the subject claiming the slightest knowledge would destroy our innocence.
I remember how religious instructors preached that our bodies were temples that housed God and masturbation would threaten that union. …
I recently received this text from a friend, “what’s the point of living when death offers peace?” Usually, I would give words of encouragement, a joke, or even a play on words, but I was dumbstruck this time. The text was heavy with emotion, and it was weighing on my heart.
Perhaps it’s because consciously and subconsciously, I felt the same way too. Whether we care to admit it or not, we all feel it. A quick browse on social media or a simple chat with a neighbor is enough to remind us we’re all in the same boat.
Life in 2020 is akin to 9/11 but on a global scale. An invisible terrorist has brought the human race to its knees. With it came everything we’ve worked for- the business we built, the jobs we relied on, and the plans we had. Many have lost their lives, and even more fear for their own. …
Gone are the days when sex meant inserting a penis into a vagina. Today sex is work, and it’s doesn’t just involve exchanging body fluids. It encompasses giving and receiving pleasure. But what happens when you’re don’t enjoy giving oral sex and your value as a lover hinges on your ability and willingness to do it.
I asked 15 heterosexual men whether they perform oral sex on their partners. A handful said they do and thoroughly enjoyed it, while those who didn’t gave reasons such as:
The most resilient isn’t the one with strength, but the one who falls and gets back up no matter what. The secret lies in the human body. For years spiritual teachers have whispered, “true strength comes from within.” Meaning strength lies in resilience, and resilience depends on one’s ability to be present with his/her emotions.
Yet society teaches us a different lesson. We’re rewarded for suppressing, denying, and disowning our emotions. We are told to be happy at all times. To never to express anger, sadness, or disappointment. This suppression of emotion has cut us from our essence.
When we can’t tap into resilience, we develop coping mechanisms as solutions. We shop for materials promising to give life meaning; we consume alcohol to numb the pain and self medicate with drugs to escape. We distract ourselves with social media, cable TV, and work. All while striving to feel nothing but happiness. …
The first thong I owned was a lacy black sexy number with red frills that decorated the edges. I had about three, but that one was my favorite. I was at the age of sexual exploration, and a string between butt cheeks gave me sass.
It hid a little while leaving something to the imagination. That was the right amount of naughty I needed to rebel against my conservative upbringing and play by my own rules.
When my Christian parents found out about it, all hell broke loose. I can still remember my mother’s shrills as she shouted, “Can you believe your daughter is already wearing such, these are what prostitutes and strippers wear.” …
I was lying in bed, humming the latest pop song by Chris Brown, when my sister barged into my room. Sis, I’ve found love, she says, excitedly; she goes into detail describing a young lad from school.
As the older sister, picking her brain is my favorite past time, so I ask her. Tell me, how do you know you found love because it has eluded me for long now?
She threw her head back laughing out loud, ever heard of Google. Just Google How to know you’re really in love and bam, the answer will appear.
Well, since Google is the sensei of our time, I checked what results popped up, and I was quite amused. Here is a sample. …
I had finally come in from a long stressful day at work. Like any worker, I just wanted to relax, de-stress, and escape the plot of everyday life. So I began to stripe down, removing layers of cloth, fatigue, and makeup until I was finally free in my birthday suit.
I looked in the mirror and marveled at my ebony skin, how it illuminated in the last rays of the descending sun.
There’s something about nudity that inspires creativity because I had the desire to indulge in my favorite past time… ART.
So I slipped into my white lingerie and paired it with white fishnet stockings. The contrast of white on black merged so well it would have made an Oreo jealous. …
To understand our sexuality, we need to look at our closest relative, the Bonobos. In nature, the bonobos are regarded as highly sexual animals. They engage in a lot of sex and also enjoy watching each other have sex.
We share 98.7% of our DNA with them. This means biologically and instinctively; we are more alike.
No wonder we’re so drawn to sex and porn.