Olga Wolstenholme

I wonder if I could get my ass sued if the authors from whom I reprint passages found their way to my site. Oh well, copyright infringement be damned, I’m doing it anyways! After all, it’s not like I’m making a profit here and if anything it actually promotes their work and might even encourage someone to buy themselves their own copy, righ? At least, that’s how I’m justifying it to myself.

With that in mind here’s another definition from the pages of The Encyclopedia of Erotic Wisdom: A Reference Guide to the Symbolism, Techniques, Rituals, Sacred Texts, Psychology, Anatomy, and History of Sexual.

Pelvic Floor Potential

“If the pelvic floor muscles are slack and you do not know how o use them, you are missing out on one whole aspect of sexual  experience.”

                               - Sheila Kitzinger, Woman’s Experience of Sex

As an add-on to my post Masturbation as Meditation, I would like to share with you guys another excerpt from Betty’s Dodson’s  Sex for One: The Joy of Selfloving that I really like.

While I continue to believe that my spirituality and sexuality are closely connected, if not one in the same, I don’t want to go overboard and turn sex into a religion. And I don’t want all my orgasms to be sacred, ecstatic, ritualized communions with some divine purpose. There are times I just want a “maintenance orgasm” with a scuzzy, low-down fantasy. For me, being in the limelight on a full-time basis becomes unreal and I’m dehumanized. I don’t want to deny or ignore my dark side; that mean little person who’s envious and angry and who flirts with evil thoughts and plays with fantasy violence. When we ignore the dark side, the light of our spirituality becomes dim and we’re in danger of turning into mindless automatons willing to follow a false leader.

Aren’t books great? I could sit here all day and share with you all some of my favorite excerpts.

If you’re a frequent reader, you may have noticed that a few weeks ago I wrote about a book I recently bought: The Encyclopedia of Erotic Wisdom. I had transcribed their definition of orgasm and today, I’m going to give you two more definitions. Hopefully, like last time, you’ll feel compelled to share your thoughts or your experiences when it comes to these words. Here we go…

Sexual Imprinting   The Islamic, Ishmailian “heretics”  known as Nizari Ishm’ilis were apparently masters of sexual imprinting, binding their “initiates” to them by creating an unforgettable erotic experience, using drugs and multiple sexual partners to create a kind of erotocomatose lucidity. Apart from such consciously designed imprints, most members of our species are subject to incidents of sexual imprinting of a less obvious and more unconscious type: our education and first sexual experiences. The techniques for, and the abuse of, sexual imprinting are described in detail in the works of Timothy Leary and Robert Anton Wilson.

Hermaphrodite   The mythical figure and/or symbol that combines the God Hermes and the goddess Aphrodite into a double-sexed personality, thought it is sometimes interpreted as being neutral and nonsexual. This must not be confused with the  concept of androgyny, in which the male and female poles do not physically coexist, but are seen as existing in an integrated way on a psychological level, with repression of neither and the one complementing the other. To the ancient alchemists, the hermaphrodite represented perfection. Symbolically this image can be compared to those of the hexagram Chi Chi and the Chinese symbol of yin and yang.

Back in September I wrote a post called When Did Being Called a Feminist Become an Insult? I didn’t really have an answer at the time, I mostly wrote about my personal musings on the questions, but after reading the first Chapter of Naomi Wolf’s The Beauty Myth I have or rather she has an answer to the question. It might be pretty obvious to some, but she wrote about it so well, that I’m here to share it with you all:

The caricature of the Ugly Feminist was resurrected to dog the steps of the women’s movement. The caricature is unoriginal; it was coined to ridicule the feminists of the nineteenth century. Lucy Stone herself, who supporters saw as “a prototype of womanly grace… fresh and fair as the morning,” was derided by detractors with “the usual report” about Victorian feminists: “a big masculine woman, wearing boots, smoking a cigar, swearing like a trooper.” As Betty Friedan put it presciently in 1960, even before the savage revamping of that old caricature: “The unpleasant image of feminists today resembles less the feminists themselves than the image fostered by the interests who so bitterly opposed the vote for women in state after state.” Thirty years on, her conclusion is more true than ever: That resurrected caricature, which sought to punish women for their public acts by going after their private sense of self, became a paradigm for new limits placed on aspiring women everywhere. After the women’s movement’s second wave, the beauty myth was perfected to checkmate power at every level in individual women’s lives.

This book is AWESOME. I’ve only read chapter one and it has pretty much blown me away. You should all get your hands on a copy from somewhere. I borrowed mine from my neighbor. Seek it out! Spread the word!

Crossposted from Cuntlove.

When I was 18 or 19, at a time in my life when I had a lot of free time on my hands (not unlike now), I had the freedom to take really long showers. The shower in the apartment I lived in at the time had really good water pressure, if you know what I mean. I realized that after getting into the habit of masturbating every morning, I found myself feeling pretty relaxed everyday. I came to the conclusion that masturbation could count as a form of self-help, stress relief, therapy, which led me to believe that everyone should masturbate at least once a day and that if everyone did we’d live in a much better world.

Betty Dodson in her book Sex for One writes about Masturbation as Meditation. As she tells it, she had started practicing transcendental meditation everyday in two twenty minute sessions. At one point, when pressed for time, she decided to incorporate her meditation mantra into her masturbation session. Instead of two twenty minute sessions a day, she would masturbate for forty minutes every night while repeating her mantra. Time saving and delightfully orgasmic. What a discovery she had made, “Now everyone will want to meditate”.

Ah Gregory Peck, how you mesmerised us in To Kill a Mockingbird. A movie I haven’t seen if I’m to be honest, but it’s the first thing that came to mind when beginning this post. A movie of his that I did see, however, is Gentleman’s Agreement. I watched it over the Christmas Holiday and I made a mental note of it, actually I created a draft in WordPress with the title. I figured now is as good a time as any to bring it up again.

I like old black & white movies, so I’m pre-disposed to like this type of movie. You too? Great. You should rent this one if you haven’t already seen it. It’s about a man named Philip Green (played by Peck), he’s a reported whose assignment is to write a series about antisemitism. At first he’s kind of underwhelmed by the idea since he believes, as does everyone else in the movie apparently except for the editor who gave him the assignment in the first place, that this story has already been written to death. Philip Green is no anti-Semite, but he just doesn’t see what HE could possibly bring to the table.

Wait, there’s a twist. One night, after a conversation with his mother (what a great mom) he comes up with an idea. He goes undercover and pretends the be Jewish. After all, he just moved to the city and no one knows him there. What ensues, is his realization of how people’s attitude towards him change by simply telling them he’s Jewish. He doesn’t alter anything else about himself. There’s no stereotypical caricature. The only thing that changes is other people’s perception of him.

REAL PEOPLE, REAL LIFE, REAL SEX…Have you heard of Comstock Films? No, me neither. That is, until a friend of mine recently brought them to my attention. As their tag line clearly implies, Comstock Films provides the world (yes, the world) with movies featuring real people, real life and real sex.

It’s amateur porn with an actual production budget. Even better, it’s actual couples who are in love getting all down and dirty to show us what it looks like when “real” people have sex. If you’re wondering why I put “real” in quotation marks just then, it’s because porn stars are real people to, ya know. If I were a porn star, I think it would annoy me if people referred to alt porn as real thereby implying that I was not, but you get the difference, right?

The difference being that porn is scripted (albeit minimally) and is more like watching someone else’s fantasy as opposed to Comstock’s own brand of intimate porn that feels a lot more like hiding in a closet and watching your friends getting it on, only they’ve given you permission and instead of viewing their orgasmic pleasure from the confines of a closet you get to do it from the comforts of your living room.

Crossposted from Pop My Cherry Review. Written by Domina Doll!

Hey Readers!

My new columnist Olga Wolstenholme (the Cuntfessional) and I are teaming up to put on a month-long contest to celebrate V-Day and show our support of ending violence against women and girls worldwide.

Building on the idea of the Vagina Monologues, we are putting on a Naughty Confessional Contest to encourage all of you to write out your confessions in the comments section of Olga’s Cuntfessional posts.

What do we want?  We want raw, dirty, honest, steamy, sexy, hot, erotic real-life or fictional confessionals that somehow branch off of the ideas or topics in Olga’s the Cuntfessional posts.

For instance, in Olga’s A History Lesson you might right about a real-life encounter that involves a Teacher/student relationship, or a fantasy you’ve had with a past Teacher or student or even a fictional story about the same topic, or comment on Olga’s post itself.

Read more...for rules and prizes.

My friend Liz sent me a link to an article in The Globe and Mail, she was pretty appalled by what she had read and wanted me to help spread the word. So here I am spreading the word that in Canada medical students routinely perform pelvic exams on unconscious women who are about to undergo gynecological surgery and as the title of the post clearly states the pelvic exam is done without the patients consent.

I too was pretty appalled when I read this, that is until I realized that the exams were only performed in the context of a gynecological surgery. The idea that you could go in to have your tonsils removed and unknowingly have a med student riffle around inside your vagina while you lay there unconscious was a horrible thought. Obviously, there is still the issue of consent, but at least the exams were done in context. For some reason, that makes me feel better about it. Sorry, Liz.

No matter how warranted these exams are in the context of a teaching hospital, the patients consent should be at the forefront of the issue. No consent, no pelvic exam. Seems like a rather simple conclusion, no? Well, apparently in Canada the patients consent is implied rather than explicit (they perform the same exams in the U.S. and the U.K. but require the patients outright consent). Canada what happened to your usually well earned good manners?

Let me go on the record and say that it is incredibly, torturously cold in Montreal right now. The kind of day where you don’t go outside unless it’s absolutely necessary. Unfortunately for me, I had to go buy myself some food. On my way to Provigo I went, trying not to freeze to death on the way there. I soon gave up walking and decided to take shelter inside a bus stop. Almost every person who walked by was swearing to God.

I was waiting for the bus by myself for an eternity (ten minutes at most) when an older lady joined me within our glass enclave. At the time, I was wondering when the damn bus would show up, but I did not want to expose myself to the wind and go check the schedule. The lady who was waiting with me was freaking me out a little, because she was strangely bent over behind me. I was wondering what the hell she was doing and when I took a peak, I noticed that there had been a bus schedule behind me this entire time. I also realized that this would have been useless information since I did not have a watch.

Now, while I was waiting and hoping the bus would get there as soon as possible and put me out of my cold inflicted misery, my arms where going numb from holding my scarf up around my face and I wished I had one of those full face masks with the eyes cut out. This thought, as they often do, led to another and I found myself remembering an incident that had taken place when I was in high school.