A Touch of Self-Love

I’m curious, what is your relationship with masturbation? As I’d said in the Creating the Sexually Liberated Woman post, I have been masturbating a long time, however, my thoughts, approach, style, perspective, and even my technique has evolved over time.

Female masturbation is not talked about very often. I’ve heard great things about its many health benefits including a couple I’ve observed on my own: stress relief and sleep aid. Masturbation has spiritual benefits as well. In my personal experience, it fosters an intimate level of self-awareness, sexual confidence, and self-love: physically and psychologically. Friends who know me know I have no reservation about telling someone that I masturbate should they ask. Asking me when’s the last time I masturbated is no different than asking when’s the last time I drank water. They each occur at roughly the same frequency. . .roughly.

There is an art to masturbation. Something like an artist applying paint to a canvas, waiting for each layer to dry before applying a new coat or color, and then finally leaving Her signature. Yes, the evolution of masturbation is much like this. With each new revelation and the increase in frequency, I feel closer to creativity, closer to the Goddess.

Feelin’ Myself

Growing up I was taught that although inappropriate, it was normal for boys to touch themselves and masturbate as a means to release their sexual urges while going through puberty. I guess girls don’t have sexual urges. Any who, we’re certainly not allowed to release them.

As a girl, I was taught that a vagina is a smelly place, that my cycle was a disgusting punishment bestowed upon women by god and that I should never touch down there unless to clean, wash, or wipe. Funny, I do not recall being taught very much about other people touching. But since it was such a dirty and smelly place anyway, I wasn’t very comfortable allowing others to touch. If they “knew” what I “knew” why would they want to touch it anyway.

When I was a girl about eight years old, every night after my bath, I’d place the big mirror over the closed toilet lid, squat down over it like I was gonna go, only my legs were a bit more opened, and admire the way my vulva looked. It was mostly dark pink like someone had taken a drop of black paint and mixed it with pink. The color looked bright against my brown skin. On my inner labia major there was a dark mole. Surprised, I remember thinking, “Oh, moles can be down there, too!?”

I suppose it was surprising because the skin of my labia is not like the skin on my face, chest, or hand which are the other places I had moles. My labia minor were fleshy and slightly wavy (it’s more wavy, now); the color formed an ombre effect from pink to light brown as it extended to the outer edge of my labia. I had no good or bad thoughts; just pure fascination.

Usually, I would get dressed and place the mirror back behind the gas stove, but one day I forgot. My grandmother scolded “What took you so long in that bathroom? You know other people have to bathe. You got this mirror on this toilet like you been looking up your ass.” That likely could have been enough to shame me into never taking a peek at my vagina again.

The Peeping Tom

In third grade, while using the restroom a girl peeped inside my stall. When I walked out all the girls were quiet and staring at me. Eventually, I asked, “What?” And one girl told me that another had peeked into my stall and said I was nasty because I was playing with myself. Given the limited restroom time that we had, I doubt that I was actually playing with myself. Perhaps I was touching myself a bit longer than she felt appropriate. Either way, I can’t recall. I do remember that they seemed to be staring at me like I’d committed an offense punishable by death as they awaited my response. I simply replied that she was nasty for looking into my stall. They all agreed and that was the end of that.

Sex positive and body positive blog, Subscribe to PrettyPinkLotusBud.org for a refreshing perspective on sex, relationships, and spirituality. Tearing down social constructs one patriarchal perspective at a time.

After I got my cycle, I didn’t look at my vulva for a very long time. I didn’t masturbate for a very long time either. Whenever I did, which was rarely, it was stealthy, over quickly, detached, and impersonal. I eventually learned that masturbation is absolutely inappropriate for girls however, boys were always “beating their meat”, having wet dreams, and after school porn watch parties with jacking off contests and this was completely normal. It was more acceptable for a guy to touch you than for you to touch yourself. No wonder men fetishize women masturbating.

Sophomore year in college, I began masturbating regularly, again. I had my own, private room. I didn’t have to worry about doing it sneakily in the bathroom or waiting until I thought everyone was asleep or concerning myself with who might pop in on me. And while I had really, really great sex during this period of my life, there is no intimacy quite like the intimacy of pleasuring one’s self. That release had been a long time coming; All puns intended.

Love Yourself, Touch Yourself

Now, masturbation is a sacred ritual and while I enjoy using toys, I mostly prefer to use my hands. I love the way I feel; the way I swell as I become aroused; the way my vulva becomes a frictionless surface, the way my body pulsates through my climax, and as I reach resolution. I am both comfortable and open with masturbation. I masturbate at least three times a week whether I’m having sex regularly or not.

Masturbation is my way of showing love and appreciation to myself. I use it to complete my stress cycles and release excess energy before bed. Night time puts me in nesting mode. When I’m preparing to masturbate, I like to lie with my back slightly arched, legs opened and relaxed. I explore the entire surface of my bare mons and vulva. With my fingers, I slowly slide two inside my vagina to smell and taste. I love the way I taste and smell. No one knows my body better than I do. I roll my hips in full circles as I climb higher and higher, pinching my nipple between my index and middle fingers as I squeeze my breast in one hand the other between my legs. My relationship with Desiree is a slight obsession. I love her so much. I like to express my love in others ways as well. Here’s a portrait of her I recently drew.

self portrait

Self-portrait “Desiree”

My favorite things to use during masturbation are coconut oil and my imagination; no penetration. I enjoy exclusive clitoral stimulation only. I have the sexiest imagination. Although, I don’t have access to another imagination to compare. All I know is once it works its magic, no lube necessary.

Occasionally, I like to have more elaborate masturbation rituals which involve Marsha Ambrious, Trey Songs, some sexy mirror dancing (this girl is talented with these hips), incense, and crystals. I’m such a romantic and there are few things I enjoy more than not waiting for someone else to romance me. Especially given the fact that I am more single than I’ve ever been yet I’m having my most accepting, self-intimacy sex life ever.

 

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Book Review: Come As You Are Pt I

Come As You Are: The Surprising New Science That Will Transform Your Sex Life

By Emily Nagoski, Ph.D

This book is organized into four parts, 9 chapters (plus an introduction and a conclusion), and 335 pages (400 including acknowledgments, appendices, index, and reference). Since the book is pretty thick and contains such a wealth of information, I’ve decided I will review it in its four parts. Here’s an outline of Part 1:

  • Introduction: Yes, You Are Normal
  • Part 1
    • Chapter 1: Anatomy: No Two Alike
    • Chapter 2: The Dual Control Model: Your Sexual Personality
    • Chapter3: Context: And the “One Ring” (to Rule Them All) in Your Emotional Brain

Book Review

Yay! I made it through part one which consists of the first three chapters. I’ll warn you, this book is a lot to take in. Make sure you’re in a distraction-free setting while you’re reading it. You’ll be making a lot of personal references. My mind kept straying so often to how each part applied to my own sexual experience that I couldn’t remain focused. Reading it provides quite the cathartic release.

You know how when you’re actively reading the words on the page, only thing is, your thoughts are elsewhere. Then once you realize this, you bring your focus back to the passage only to realize you didn’t comprehend a thing you read. . . “Just calling words,” as my granny calls it. Only you’re doing it in your head and not out loud. So I had to reread a lot.

Isn’t it amazing how you’re able to do things simultaneously!? Further proof that the mind is separate from the soul is separate from the body yet all have to function in a single form: the metaphysical. No wonder the world is so crazy. Even within our individual selves we function in form yet not in sync the way that we should. What an epiphany!

Anywho, back to this review.

Throughout Part I, the author gives the most awesomest analogies. I love analogies. I am the queen of analogies. They work so well in putting life into simplified perspectives. My ex-boyfriend used to tell me my analogies didn’t apply to everything. Oh but they do, and Dr. Emily Nagoski proves it in “Come As You Are.”

I appreciated Dr. Nagoski’s suspenseful prelude leading into the subsequent chapter and her exquisite introduction to each new chapter. Everyone, one sprinkled throughout with just the right amount of imagery in the short stories to give this visual learner a well-informed illustration of the science behind the sex.

Yes, You are Normal (Intro)  & No Two Alike (Ch 1)

I used to skip reading the introduction. Sometimes I still do but in this case, do not skip the intro. It’s an important component to understanding the book and its organization. Also, it explains how it applies to you (or doesn’t apply to you). So transgender ladies, this may be the book for you but it’s not a guarantee.

Sex positive and body positive blog, Subscribe to PrettyPinkLotusBud.org for a refreshing perspective on sex, relationships, and spirituality. Tearing down social constructs one patriarchal perspective at a time.The first chapter was all about the sexual hardware, brain, and body. It emphasized how we all (anatomically), men and women, have the same parts organized in different ways yet no two are alike. If you’re having any concerns about your physical make-up, you’re likely to find the answer here. My favorite part of this chapter is the garden analogy which explains that our sexuality is cultivated by our family, our culture, and our religion until we are able to cultivate it on our own. I learned that there isn’t a lot of information on the anatomy of women of color. This has me wanting to take pix of my moon flower and donate them to science instead of sexting them to my forever boo.

We spend so much time in school, isn’t there a way to incorporate teaching students about themselves. It would definitely help them navigate their life more easily. I have digressed once more.

The Dual Control Model (Ch 2)

Although we have the same parts organized in different ways, as men and women, we learn and respond to sexual stimuli differently. If you’re curious about why men have a pill and women don’t, this is the chapter for you. Chapter two is in some ways a foundation for chapter three and I suspect three for four and four for five and so on and so forth.

Chapter two explains a little about the study of sexual stimulation, arousal, desire and the introduction of context. It explains how there are stimuli, physical and psychological, that makes us go and those that make us stop. Dr. Nagoski tells us all of these stimuli are learned through that garden metaphor mentioned in the first chapter.

The part about the rats had me thinking, “Nah, I’m much more complicated than this,” but as you progress through the chapter, it will all come together. I haven’t made all of the connections however, I’m also still reading so we shall see.

Context (Ch3)

And here is where your “Ah-ha” moment will occur. I’m not usually an excitable person outside the bedroom but chapter 3 is certainly a cause for arousing curiosity.

Emily teaches us about the emotional one ring (you’ll definitely want to get the book for this one) and provides a beautiful context analogy about how 72 degrees feels on a scorching hot day versus how it feels on a bitterly cold day. Perfect, perfect analogy; My entire sex life starts to make sense right here.

It explains why I mourned the temporary loss of my sexual interest after giving birth to my daughter. I was so relieved to discover that it was indeed, only temporary **PHEW**

This is the chapter where you take full control of your sexual transformation.

Artist Feature

Woman Reading Book with Orange” by Georgy Kurasov

“Georgy Kurasov was born in 1958 in the USSR, in what was then Leningrad. He still lives and works in the same place, but now the country is Russia and the city is called St Petersburg. Without any effort on his part whatsoever, Georgy seems to have emigrated from one surreal country to another.” -Excerpt from Georgy Kurasov personal website

To see more of his art visit Kurasov Fine Art

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Free My Postpartum Sexuality

There is relatively universal consensus that pregnancy and motherhood is a beautiful and blessed journey. For the most part, it is a common belief that “A child is a blessing from God.” That is how I’ve always heard it, but you ever notice how pregnancy and motherhood is a huge source of cultural shame?

The Dome of Shame

The moment I became visibly pregnant at 21 looking every bit of 17 as a black, unwed expectant mother, I could feel the difference in energy of the way I was perceived in the world. I could feel the stares and I could hear the whispers. Some of it didn’t come in whispers, just outright questioned expectations, disappointment, blame, ridicule and the like. I was excited to become a mother within myself but as I heard the words “Your life is over,” as I’m sure many women and girls had heard before me, all I could do was cry in spite of the joy that resonated from my womb. I felt weak, vulnerable, and strapped inside the “dome” of shame, referring to my taut, dome-shaped pregnant belly. I felt like I could not fully embrace the spiritual jubilance of carrying my child.

There is so much shame and blame associated with becoming a mother coupled with the details surrounding your journey: How many kids do you have? Do your kids have the same father? Were you married to their father? How old were you when you had your child? Did you graduate college? The list is endless. It was like I had less privilege without a man to validate me, without a marriage as proof of that validation.

God forbid you have three or more children with different fathers, be unwed, and never married. You carry the scarlet letter of shame. This was exactly the case with my own mother. I, her only daughter and eldest child, had to watch as she toiled in the psychological damage that resulted from her self-criticism and the constant judgement she received from others. Somewhere, I made a promise this would never happen to me.

Are you a bastard?

In 8th grade, a girl walked around the class pointing at students asking, “Are you a bastard?”, “Are you a bastard?” “I know you’re not a bastard.” “I’m not a bastard, because my parents were married before I was born.” She stood in front of me, pointed, and asked, “Victoria, are you a bastard.” I recall rolling my eyes and ignoring her as she walked over to the next student and posed the same question.

Of all the things that had happened to me in middle school, why do I remember this so vividly; why was this particular incident so effective that when I think of this moment, a part of me says, “Ha, now I have two children with the same father and all of her five children have different fathers,” despite the fact that I know in the grand scheme of life, it matters not at all. Why do I think this way? Because this type of cultural shame has been reinforced in our lives as women, as mothers over and over and over again.

Sex positive and body positive blog, Subscribe to PrettyPinkLotusBud.org for a refreshing perspective on sex, relationships, and spirituality. Tearing down social constructs one patriarchal perspective at a time.

Postpartum Bodies

Then comes the postpartum body judgement. Your lovely new “kangaroo pouch”, for those of us that don’t snap back or who were never snapped in the first place, means you are no longer suitable for male consumption.

Oh yes, let us not omit the infamous “Ewwww stretchmarks”. Yet another scar-let letter of shame. Pun intended. I watch mothers on Instagram, who flaunt their postpartum tummy (@powertoprevail) get grueling insults hurled at them so much that an entire campaign (Love Your Lines) uplifting the journey into motherhood and the bodily changes that come with it, was erected in their honor.  We shame mothers into hiding through the idolization of perfect bodies and the condemnation of what we categorize as imperfect ones, after they have emerged from the perilous yet miraculous labor of childbirth.

Honor & Celebrate Transition

Author Emily Nagoski proposed a beautiful idea in her book Come as you Are. “Let’s invent a ritual where women celebrate the transition into their postpartum bodies.”

When Maya Angelou traveled to Africa she stayed with a tribe who bathed communally. She said the women began to weep and console her and she didn’t know why. They thought she was childless because she had no stretch marks. In their society, marks are a badge of honor. They said that even if the baby died and she was kidnapped into a new village, if she passed away and could not speak for herself, the marks would tell her story and she would get the proper rites at her burial.

We must guide in a different way, uplift, honor, and empower ALL women and girls on their journey into motherhood. ALL of them and not just a select few who did it the “right” way. It is imperative that we love and embrace our transition into motherhood both physically and psychologically. Now more often than ever, we hear reports on the rise of postpartum depression. I do not wonder why.

The lack of appreciation for being the giver of life is beyond disgusting.

Welcome to postpartum motherhood, the land of “damaged goods”. The place where your shitty baby’s father threatens to leave because no one else is gonna want you anyway. I actually heard one of the guys from TeenMom say that to the mother of his child. All I could think was, “Oh wow, is this what we think of our child bearers?” The place where you get likened to an old car that has lost its value with your “high mileage pussy.” I swear I didn’t make any of this up. Why do we treat women like they’re property and products; An asset that decreases in value over time and sexual experiences?

Postpartum Sexuality

As a mother, how can I be socially barred from being associated with sex when it is the very act of intercourse that brought me to this place of motherhood. To be a mother and to also be sexy creates a feeling of cognitive dissonance from both a personal and social perspective, a dichotomy that artist Michael explores quite nicely in his post “Cognitive Dissonance: Hestia vs Aphrodite.” In his post he talks about Hestia, Greek goddess of the hearth who is a virgin and Aphrodite, Greek goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation. In summary, it mentions the way the goddesses represent two extremes of a single spectrum which mirrors the way women see themselves, the way that men view us as well as the way we are expected to exist in the real world. Essentially, it is difficult to accept us as being both; A feeling I can readily identify with as a woman, as a mother, and as a former wife.

There is such a dissociation between sex and motherhood that the thought of a mother having sex and being a sexual being is complete taboo. The idea of fucking someone’s mother is a repulsive turn off and she should tread carefully on any consideration of having sex with anyone who is not her child’s father or any other sexy behavior for that matter as not to be labeled a slut, whore, sorry excuse of a mother, poor example for her daughter, and an embarrassment to her family. And please don’t let a child result from such a union without a solid commitment to redeem her respect. The postpartum period of a woman’s life is a laundry list of things you shouldn’t do, clothes you shouldn’t wear, and people you shouldn’t be.

Free my postpartum sexuality.

Mother Slut

Get you a girl that can do both. We are not one dimensional. Yes, I am a mother. I am still fucking sexy and ****NEWS FLASH**** I also love to fuck. I still wear crop tops, booty shorts, and bikinis,  my stretchmarks proudly on display. Body dresses, stilettos, and brightly colored lipstick, fly by romance and one night stands are still a valid occurrence in my life. I twerk, I flirt, and in the bedroom, trust that I werk *snap, snap*. I wear what I want. I do what I want. I’ll be who I want. I embrace my postpartum body as my version of sexy. I am a single, sexy mommy. Yes, I am a fused duality of Hestia and Aphrodite; mother lover, mother goddess, mother slut.

Get you a girl that can do both. @juiceboxxqueen

Artist Feature

Eve” by artist Eric Heard.

To learn more about Eric’s work and how you can give his art a new home visit his IG. Check out his beautiful work, like, share, and buy, buy, gift.

thatsharveyson

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The Myth of the Slut

Long ago when matriarchy ruled as patriarchy does today, men competed for the affection, attention, and approval of women. Women were worshiped and the Goddess ruled the heavens. Women had reign to choose any man they desired to fulfill their most imaginative fantasies. The most physically and sexually capable of the bunch were always top choice.

Men had no power

Men had to justify their existence, for they had very little importance beyond their ability to fertilize female eggs and move heavy objects. They were very much like worker ants and bees. They did the heavy physical labor, and made sure that children were produced and protected. (Walsch, 41)

Women would hold lavish ceremonies. They danced, chanted, ate, drank, and sat in prayer and meditation to bestow gratitude upon the Goddess for her love and abundance. During these ceremonies, each woman would spend time have sex with various men she felt an attraction to in order to select a suitable well-endowed, handsome, and physically capable strong mate who would bring her great pleasure and healthy children. The women would dress in almost nothing to seduce the men, who proudly walked about naked and erect, and observed how they measured up.

These ceremonies would last from the fall of the full moon until the rise of the new. Women participated in duos, trios, and group experiences of multiple orgasmic pleasure. Their climaxes could be heard for miles. The women even indulged in bringing one another pleasure while others watched on. Sex during this time was not a private act nor was it an objective act. These acts were the purest expression of boundless, authentic love. To do it openly and often was to pay homage to the Goddess.

Several offspring were born of these rituals with no concern of whom the father might be. All the men participated equally in the protection and rearing of the children. It was an amazing celebration of sexual pleasure and spiritual connection as they worshiped the Goddess of the Yoniverse.

It was indulgently wonderful, except everyone did not get to enjoy these ceremonies. Only the strongest, most handsome, empathetic, and intelligent of the men were invited.

Sex positive and body positive blog, Subscribe to PrettyPinkLotusBud.org for a refreshing perspective on sex, relationships, and spirituality. Tearing down social constructs one patriarchal perspective at a time.

Overthrown

Unfortunately, not all men measured up. These men became bitter and resentful. They began plotting to reverse the roles. After centuries, of playing the subservient role of meat suppliers, the men finally convinced the women to give them more power, but those men became greedy. They began to spread rumors of the Goddess having given birth to an evil son (later known as the devil) who planned to overthrow the spiritual kingdom and the male God was brought forth for protection.

As time passed, the rumors began to grow. The Goddess pledged her loyalty to God, forsaking all others. Women began to follow Her example as it was their ultimate desire to be all that the Goddess was. Many women knew this was a trick and continued to follow the original ways of the Goddess. The men could not let this happen. They could not allow the women to realize their divine essence and reclaim their power over men. Fearing the loss of their own power, the men turned to social manipulation. Women who refused to pledge their loyalty to one man, acting out in rebellion, were shamed into conformity. Thus, the slut came into being. The Goddess soon disappeared from worship altogether.

Myth and Magic

Women were socially ostracized and physically punished for being with more than one man. Social constructs were invented to define virginity (the hymen story). Sex in exchange for goods and services, once seen as a lavishly, prestigious role performed by the most seductive women, was given derogatory labels (whore and prostitution) and declared illegal. Women’s breasts were regarded as obscene. Female genitalia and pregnancy out of wedlock became a source of cultural shame. Social suppression of sexual desires turned into self-suppression of sexual desires; All invented to control women’s sexuality and prevent their reemergence to magnificence alongside the Goddess.

So you see, the slut is a myth, no more real than Sasquatch or the Loch Ness monster. Although, like Sasquatch and the Loch Ness monster, some people still believe she exists. Slut is a shameful label given to magical women, the boldest and the bravest of us all. In truth, slut is the essence of a woman rekindling her spiritual beingness as a sexual goddess; doing her due diligence to unlock the treasures of her deepest desires rendering her worthy of becoming one with the true Goddess once more. The one labeled slut is a woman who recognizes her freedom to pursue her sexual potential and all the wonderful pleasure it brings.

Sluts are like Unicorns; although they do not exist, they represent something quite rare and truly magical.

 

References
Nagoski, Emily. Come As You Are: The Surprising New Science That Will Transform Your Sex Life. Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2015.

Walsch, Neale Donald. Conversations with God: An uncommon dialogue book 3. Hampton Roads Publishing Company, 1998.

Artist Feature:

Try Me Once” by Artist: Joel Dietz, TouchMeDeeply 

To learn more about our featured artist and his work visit, Touchmedeeply.com. If there is a specific piece you’d like, please contact via email: deeplytouchme@ gmail.com to purchase art prints and more.

touchmedeeply

 

 

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Creating the Sexually Liberated Woman

I remember my mother telling me a story of her first experiences as a parent. So vividly, I recall the one where I was playing in the bathtub as a toddler when I discovered my vulva. According to my mother, I was intrigued. I poked, prodded, and pulled at it. I even invited her to come see the new treasure I had discovered. Concerned, my mother asked my pediatrician if this was normal behavior. My pediatrician responded, “Perfectly, so.” And with that, my mother left me to my journey of self-exploration. My fascination with my feminine anatomy has yet to end.

I learned to please myself long before anyone else had the opportunity. Way back then, masturbation was not a sexual experience for me. At least, I did not see it that way. In sexuality, as with all other things, perception is the reality. Back then, I’d lie in the darkness, place my hands between my opened legs and gently massage my clitoris until my entire body would quake in pleasure. I’d feel so relaxed and fall quickly asleep. I use it for this very same purpose even today yet, it has served as climactic role in exploring the full range of my sexuality.

While researching and contemplating whether or not I would even launch PPLB, I did at least fifty Google searches on various phrases relating to female sexuality. I came across one post in particular on the blog SexLoveLiberation.com where its author, Ev’Yan Whitney, explores 14 Qualities of the Sexually Liberated Woman. I love that post so much. In fact, I love her entire blog, and I encourage you to visit. I also discovered an interesting piece on Female Sexuality, “How I became a sexually liberated woman” by author Wendy Lustworthy.

I, on the other hand, am more interested in exploring how the sexually liberated woman comes to be; how the sexually liberated woman is created. Is she in the words of the famous Lady GaGa song “born this way” or is she in some way, carefully cultivated?

Tweet: Is the sexually liberated woman born this way or is she created? https://ctt.ec/z4cIf+ @pinklotusbud

Tweet: Is the sexually liberated woman born this way or is she created? https://ctt.ec/z4cIf+ @pinklotusbud

 

As long as I’ve known my sexual self, inhibition has been almost nonexistent. Perhaps this can be attributed to my mother allowing me to explore myself without ridicule or judgment. I grew up in a small town filled with religious folk so in spite of my lack of inhibition, I was very, very cautious. In retrospect, I couldn’t really verbalize it but I knew exactly the type of person I wanted in my life and that has brought me deep intimacy with people who love, respect, and support me. That does not mean that I have not been without some choices that have resulted in epic failure.

Unlike the stories I have read about other women, I did not think sex was wrong in any context. I did not feel guilty about the desire to express myself sexually nor was sex this awful, non-orgasmic experience lacking in psychological stimulation. Not at all. From the earliest moments of my sexual debut, although a bit insecure about the act itself, I was open, comfortable, and confident in who I was and what I desired. I was fortunate to share my experience with individuals who were excited about my openness and eager to assist me in exploring my sexuality at all depths and detours.

Sex positive and body positive blog, Subscribe to PrettyPinkLotusBud.org for a refreshing perspective on sex, relationships, and spirituality. Tearing down social constructs one patriarchal perspective at a time.

There may be no road map to how one becomes a sexually liberated woman however, there are several parallels in the experiences of sexually liberated women. Those include:

  • Self-Love in its psychological and physical form
  • Being open and confident
  • Granting yourself permission to explore your sexuality
  • Having a genuine, separate interest in sex and love
  • Communicating your desires clearly
  • Having the courage to be sex positive and stand for open sexual expression

The journey of exploring my sexuality has been overflowing with the most amazing thrills and pleasures that every woman should experience before ascending. I’ve only been hesitant on whether I would share these experiences. Although I am a woman who has actively sought out my desires in the sexual arena, I still hold many of the concerns that most women hold. The concerns of being slut shamed, disrespected, or feeling devalued. Favorably, I have had the support and encouragement of those I am closest with and know me as the beautiful, intelligent, empathetic, open, loving, smart, amazing, maternal, sensual spirit that I am.

“Hypnotize”

The piece featured above has been created by artist Jessica Ryan Walker. To learn more about Jessica Ryan be sure to visit her website, admire, and purchase her beautiful art.

 jessicaryanwalker

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