The problem is I’ve become obsessed with the idea of ‘forced orgasm’ and rape and I dont know if I should hate myself for it.  I understand that such fantasies are acceptable in women because they are actually still in control so its not a breach of their consent.  But I wondered if it was ok for men to have these fantasies – given that from a male perspective, consent is imagined to be denied. Is it worse for men to have these fantasies than women? Should I try to focus on more healthy fantasies?

My response to him was:

This is a very controversial and somewhat taboo topic. I’m glad you wrote me, because I welcome the opportunity to put your mind at ease.

Many women despise themselves for their rape fantasies, and many men despise themselves for their rapist fantasies.

Intellectually, we know the reasons why it is morally and ethically “wrong” to desire this, but for all that we try to sublimate it, the fantasy remains.

Why?

Because it is something primal in us. We’re mammals, and in most mammalian species, the male subjugates the female in order to mate.  Most females will only mate with a male who can overpower her no matter how hard she fights him — because she is looking for a candidate who can pass the strength and aggression survival traits on to her offspring.  It is our heritage: Passion. Violence. Sex.

So, no, I don’t think it is worse for men to have these fantasies than women. Should you try to focus on “more healthy” fantasies? Well, some might argue that fantasies in which you are an alpha male aggressor are very healthy. Fantasies are fantasies and they are only problematic when 1) You can only achieve orgasm when you are focused on that fantasy and/or 2) You seriously consider implementing a fantasy which would cause lasting physical or psychological damage to yourself or another.

It is possible, with good communication, to act out such a fantasy with a partner, but of course, there must be trust. I have a thing for forced orgasms, both giving and receiving, and I have explored it countless times.

Bottomline: There is nothing wrong with you. You’re not a bad man because of this fantasy. My best advice is to encourage you to develop a diverse base of masturbatory fantasies so that you don’t develop the sorts of problems that were mentioned in my “When a fetish takes over” podcast.

Lastly, sometimes this type of fantasy has complicated psychological under-currents that point to feeling thwarted or frustrated in your personal or professional life, and if that is the case, I encourage you to explore ways to resolve those issues because prolonged stress isn’t healthy for you.

*  *  *

The Silken On Sex site and erotic podcast are made possible by your support. Please visit SilkenOnSex.com to make a donation. Or, visit the show’s sponsor AdamAndEve.com for your sex toy purchases. When you use the code SILKEN at checkout, You will get free shipping and save 50% on any item.

Silken on Sex #78:

It is fair to say that I’m an enthusiastic masturbator and sex toy aficionado. My primary partner calls me his pervy dirty girl, and fortunately is not threatened by my self-pleasuring practices. He knows that my libido is off-the-charts and that it takes a herculean effort on anyone’s part (including my own) to keep me feeling satisfied for more than a few hours at a time. But he does try, and between his efforts and mine, we keep things very interesting.

Which is where my chest full of sex toys comes in.

I am grateful to be a woman, and grateful that so many people have put so much ingenuity and effort into accessorizing women’s pleasures.  Toys to fulfill our every pleasure, fantasy, and sexual need line the shelves of thousands of adult stores all over the world. And fortunately for men, I’ve noticed that the numbers of male-oriented toys out there in the market has increased dramatically in the past decade.

While sex toys are great for self-pleasuring, they are also invaluable tools for spicing things up between couples. Sex can become pretty routine amongst couples, something scheduled for Sunday nights after the kids are in bed and the dog has been walked and the garbage put out. And for those couples who don’t have children, too. I know too many couples for whom sex and intimacy have taken a back-burner to more career-oriented pursuits. The end result of all this is that people grow sexually frustrated and/or bored with their same-ole same-ole sex lives, and start looking for a way to spice things up — often in the form of finding someone else. But as we all know, once that New Relationship Energy (NRE) fades, we fall back into the same boring habits and ways of being, which simply fuels the cycle of serial monogamy. I’m of the opinion that everyone should make fucking like they’re hoping to keep “porn star” as an economic fallback position part of their routine — and there are so many sex toys and accessories to facilitate fun, experimental, and even downright steamy “rock star” sex.

With that thought in mind, I am sharing Silkenvoice’s Top 15 Sex Toys & Aids in three categories: those for women, men, and couples, followed up with recommendations on sex how-to guides and porn. I swing both ways with regards to sex partners, and while my recommendations target the larger heterosexual audience, they are also useful for gays and lesbians.

Women

1. A wand massager like a Hitachi Magic Wand or similar knock off like the Adam & Eve Massager is a must-have for most women, save those with uber-sensitive clits. There are even a variety of attachments to put mind-blowing orgasms within your grasp.
2. A rechargeable Jackrabbit is a joy. Mine has paid for itself man times over in batteries not purchased.  There is also a large selection of battery-operated rabbit vibes to suit every shape of woman and her stimulation needs. If they are out of your price-range, don’t worry–there are a lot of vibrating dildos out there. If you don’t have one, get one. It will make your toes curl.
3. The Voila Massager is thin and flat, and one of my favorite finds. It can be cupped in the fingertips of one hand for those ladies who like to masturbate laying on their bellies, as well as being perfect for clitoral stimulation during sex — it is thin enough not to get in the way — it has 7 levels of vibration and pulsation, and best of all, it is rechargeable!
4. A slender glass dildo, which can be warmed up to body temperature in water, is great for anal  play. I recommend that or the EZ Bend anal vibrator. A lot women are very hesitant about anal play but I’ve got to tell you, try it, and keep trying, until you’ve relaxed enough to enjoy it. Anal orgasms are thrilling and intense.
5. The Sybian, which is an amazing fucking machine that rocks my world, or for 1/10th the cost, The Loveseat. I had one of these until I got my Sybian, and I loved it. It is a saddle of sorts for a massaging wand, and you can purchase a remote to control the wand’s vibration with — for hand’s free pleasure.

Men

1. The Aneros prostate massager. Many men are even more leery of anal pleasure than women are, which is a pity. The Aneros is worth getting past your reservations for — how would you like to experience full-body orgasms like women do? I’ve seen the Aneros make men cum without any stimulation of the penis. Very hot! There is also a unisex version for men and women called Peridise that I haven’t tried yet.
2. The Fleshlight is the ultimate stroker toy for men. It looks like a flashlight on the outside and inside is soft pink flesh-like material that provides suction. I love to use it to jack-off guys I’ve tied up :)
3. Massager Masturbator Sleeve: If you’ve got a Hitachi Magic Wand or similar wand massager in the house, you must get one of these. Slip the sleeve over your cock, fit the head of the massager into the cup, and turn it on. It will make your eyes roll back in your head, your body tighten, and your toes curl. Oh, and you’ll cum, too.
4. The EZ bend anal vibrator is a toy I’ve also recommended for women.  It is great for men because you can bend the tip to the angle you need to stimulate and vibrate your prostate at the same time. This can also produce full-body orgasms for men.
5. The Venus 2000 machine does all the work for men. It has an infinitely adjustable stroke length and speed for hands-free fun. Guys can just lay back and moan and writhe like a woman. I find it very fun to use on men I’ve tied down.

Couples

Sex toys can really spice up your sex life, alleviating the routine and adding new repertoire.

1. Adjustable penis extender: I’m not going to lie, some days we wish your cock was bigger, just like some days you wish we were tighter. With this, couples get both. Made of super stretchy rubber, this will add 2″ to your length and a bit of added girth, while at the same time giving your cock a sweet squeeze. It easily fits over the penis and includes ticklers for additional pleasure for your partner. If you find that the sleeve is too long for you, just cut the sheath until you find the desired size.
2. Strap-on vibrating harness: This is a sturdy, adjustable harness that will accommodate most dildos, and even comes with a vibrating bullet. Real women wear strap-ons, and so do men. I have one friend who straps on John Holmes when his women-friends have worn him down to a nub. Enjoy the confidence and power of a cock that won’t stop, regardless of your gender.
3. Sex sling with cuffs: Ever gotten a cramp in your hip or ass trying to hold your leg in that perfect position for more than a few minutes? I have. What a mood-killer. The sex sling is a fun device that makes creative positions possible. I like to put the padded neck portion along my shoulders instead of my neck. Experiment and enjoy.
4. Sex wedge/ramp:  One word — Comfortable. One of my partners picked up this wedge when I pulled a muscle in my back that had me in physical therapy for 4 weeks. Not only did it make sex possible, but it fueled lots of ideas for when my range of motion returned. This particular Libertator brand of wedge comes with a booklet chock full of positions. I’ve tried them all.
5. Restraints/bondage gear: If you don’t have any bondage gear, you’re missing out on one of the best ways to spice up your sex life. If you’re curious, but don’t know where to start, I recommend the Under The Bed Restraint System — especially if you don’t have a headboard or footboard conducive to tying someone up.

Great Sex How-To eBooks

I’ve recommended all these toys and aids, but don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you hanging. In addition to the information available on my site and in my stories, I’m also going to list my Top 5 Great Sex How-to Books — available in eBook formats from Amazon.com:

1. How to Tell a Naked Man What to Do by Candida Royale. This is a primer for women on how to be dominant in the bedroom.
2. She Comes First: The Thinking Man’s Guide to Pleasuring a Woman by Ian Kerner. If your female partner seems to be disinterested in sex, read this book and change everything.
3. Never Have the Same Sex Twice: A Guide for Couples by Alison Tyler. Each new chapter begins with a hot story and follows up with great ideas on how to keep sex from becoming routine.
4. The Ultimate Guide to Strap-on Sex: A Complete Resource for Women and Men by Karlyn Lotney. Buy that strap-on harness I recommended and this book and try something different on.
5. A Tired Woman’s Guide to Passionate Sex by Laurie B. Mintz. You think you’re too tired for sex? Read this book and think again.

Got Porn?

Lastly, if you’re looking for decent porn that isn’t going to install Trojans (and I don’t mean the condoms) on your computer, these are my Top 5 Free Porn Sites:

1. SilkenOnSex.com – Hot erotic stories in both text and audio formats that men, women, and couples enjoy, some of which are free, and some for purchase.
2. Spankwire.com – The best I’ve found yet. Well-organized and carries broad variety of porn in categories from anal to anime and fetish to voyeur.
3. Redtube.com – Free porn. Membership on site allows downloads as well as streaming
4. Youporn.com – Free porn. Membership on site allows downloads as well as streaming
5. BeautifulAgony.com – There is nothing hotter than watching someone masturbate to orgasm.

Related articles

• Toy Story: Your Guide to Erotic Playthings (lifescript.com)
• Houston inventor in sex toy court battle (mysanantonio.com)
• 8 Crazy Facts About Sex Toys (hellobeautiful.com)
• The 5 Most Popular Vibrators (marieclaire.com)

(This is the complete text of the erotic story Dirty Girl: The Preacher’s Kid. If you haven’t listened to my podcasts of this story, Part One is here and Part Two is here.)

Songs of Solomon 5:15 His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold; his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars.

She was a preacher’s kid, and like most preacher’s kids, she had a naughty streak, Rebecca did, only her parents didn’t know it. Most people didn’t. To all appearances she was a good Christian girl who did all the right things and never caused her parents a lick of trouble. But underneath the long tresses and proper dresses was the mind and body of a Dirty Girl.

“I’m a Dirty Girl,” she’d sing to herself as she walked down Main Street toward the parsonage, nodding and smiling to all the ladies who said hello, as she helped Mrs. Sunderval up the curb to the beauty parlor and patted the head of the dog sitting outside Lawson’s Feed. The refrain helped her get through the interminable routine that she had lived, day after day, year after year, for all of her 20 years on God’s green Earth.

Three times a week she walked home from the community college at the edge of town in her sensible flats, and three times a week she dropped her books inside the door, then headed up the road that lead past the church to the cemetery. This, too, was part of her routine, and it was the part that added the spring to her step and the color to her cheeks.

The cemetery was her domain, her playground since childhood. People mostly came on weekends, and the graveyard keeper came to mow on Friday mornings, so the rest of the time, it was hers, and hers alone. She’d played leap-frog over the crumbling old headstones with the big round spots of lichen growing on them, played hide and seek with the ghosts around the Pruitt family vault, and sunned herself naked on the cool grass.

Rebecca loved cemeteries the way gay men loved glory holes. Or at least, that’s what she thought. She didn’t know any gay men and she’d never seen a glory hole, but she’d read about them online, oh yes, and she figured she got the same naughty thrill from getting her hole filled in a cemetery as a gay man did getting his mouth filled by anonymous cock.

She cut deeper into the graveyard, toward the oldest section, toward her guardian angel, the larger-that-life sepulchral statue with the muscled torso and legs. He was the epitome of male beauty and in her teens her erotic dreams were filled with him, with images of being swept up into the sky by her guardian angel and feeling the thrust of him inside her with every beat of his wings.

When Rebecca reached the statue, she stripped off her clothes and sat on a sunny patch of grass to wait for her lover. The sun was warm on her skin, and the faint breeze caressed her teasingly. She felt increasingly more languid and eventually stretched out, letting the sun splash her with its heat while the grass cooled her back.

She looked up at the statue towering over her and her fingers crept to her mound, to the hair growing there and the secret pearl nested within. Her fingers slid between the lips of her lightly furred pussy as she spread her legs in the grass. She wanted her lover to find her that way, to come upon her masturbating wantonly, as he had many times before.

Just a few months ago she was rubbing her mound furiously against the angel’s bent knee, her arms wrapped around his neck for balance, when the Professor found her. He must have been surprised to see a naked girl humping a statue, because he made some sort of noise that caused Rebecca to look his way, and she saw him standing there with his hands full of gravestone rubbings and a huge tent in his pants. She recognized him instantly as the dreamy art professor who had recently moved to town, and scrambled down off the statue, using her long hair to cover herself as best she could.

“My my,” he said as he walked toward her with a conspiratorial smile on his face. “Who would have thought the preacher’s kid was such a dirty girl?”

His words pierced her like erotic arrows, making her flesh tingle. The juxtaposition of preacher’s kid and dirty girl were so deliciously shocking they heightened her arousal, and from the moment they registered in her mind, Rebecca was his. His Dirty Girl.

* * *

She’d fallen asleep in a sunny patch of grass, her pale skin glowing like the marble of the monuments around her, a heathen wood nymph turned to stone on the sacred ground of the Christian graveyard.

She looked like a blank canvas to him. He wanted to mold her flesh, her lover did. He wanted to shape her with his own hands, trace the curves, make minute adjustments to the perfection of her flesh for the sake of making her his. Marking her as his.

He pulled from his pocket a thick piece of artist’s charcoal, the soft kind that produced a deep black color, and unwrapped it. Today he didn’t need paper. Today, Rebecca would be his tabla rasa, his blank page.

Kneeling, he kissed her forehead, and whispered for her to lie still.

Her eyes fluttered open, hazel green eyes that reminded him of leaves in dappled sunlight, and her drowsy smile was loving. Open. Trusting. She was an innocent, he knew, a very carnal innocent. She took such childlike joy in her body, in the pleasures of the flesh. She knew no shame, no guilt, and she gave of herself with such abandon that it transcended all he’d ever imagined the original Eve to be, before she’d learned the concept of sin.

He took the charcoal between his fingers and drew upon her living flesh. Long sweeps of charcoal for the twining vines and smaller flourishes for leaves and flowers. Symbols, too, from Egypt, from Briton, from Japan, symbols of fertility, of life, of rebirth. Her arms, her breasts, her torso, her belly – all were soon covered in lines that moved hypnotically with each of her breaths.

With the stick he colored her pubis black, and with his fingers he rubbed it in, spreading the fine, velvety softness of the charcoal into the fine, silky softness of her lightly-furred mound, and when her fingers moved to hold herself open he had to grip his cock to keep himself from spending in his pants. Such a contrast, her pale pale fingers holding open the night-black pussy to reveal that pale inner pink that darkened to deeper red.

“Fuck me,” she moaned, her arms opening to him, arms engraved with symbols and spirals, wrists banded in black.

She looked primal and pagan, like a Pictish woman in a fertility rite; and while her face was blurred with lust, her eyes were intent.

“Fuck me,” she said clearly, almost demandingly. “Fuck me, fuck me.”

And then she lay back against the grass and slid her fingers along her pussy, staining them black, smearing the blackness into the pink as she strummed her clitoris.

Hurriedly, he unfastened his pants, shoving down the corduroy and his silk boxers to reveal a raging erection. Already there was precum dripping from the tip. A droplet swung downward to land in the grass on a long, crystalline strand.

She rose then, and pushed him backwards, hands tearing at his pants, and she straddled him, straddled his cock, and thrust herself down on to him, moaning as she did so.

It is impossible to describe the heat of her, the wetness, the suck of her pussy on his cock as she rode him, jockey style, balanced on the balls of her feet, one hand pressed against his chest, the other shoved underneath him, gripping his ass. She heaved and swayed on him like a girl dancing around a May pole, her agile body weaving sinuously when it wasn’t hammering down onto him.

She left charcoal handprints on his shirt, but he didn’t care. His own hands rose to her breasts, tracing the lines he’d drawn there, smudging them, blurring them so that her skin was mottled with gray. He pinched her nipples, those black-tipped points, pinched them hard enough to make her gasp and her legs to fold so that she landed on her knees astride him.

He flipped her then, flipped her onto her back, and shoving her knees up toward her breasts, he penetrated her in one long push. She cried out then, a sound of pain and supplication, and then her rigid body softened and she welcomed him into her.

She cradled her ass in her hands, held it up to him like an offering, and he took it, took what was offered again and again, hungry for her, aching to penetrate the mystery of her, that otherness, that fey-ness that presented itself to him in moments like these, teasing him with the knowledge of her impenetrable spirit.

He would have her, he would make her his this time, truly his dirty girl, his filthy dirty girl laying there, groveling on her back on someone’s grassy grave, begging for him to fuck her, to take her, to make her feel even more alive.

When he came it was with a bellow, a triumphant bellow followed by a series of moans as he emptied into her, his chest pressed against her smudged thighs.

He could tell by her eyes that she had not come, but that she was close, so close, and he knew just the thing to make her come.

“Roll-over,” he commanded, and she did, exposing the pale alabaster curve of her backside interrupted with black smudges that looked like faded bruises.

“Rub your clit,” he instructed, and as she raised her hips to slide her hands into the vee of her thighs, his hand fell hard on her ass.

“Oh!” she cried out, and she began squirming on her fingers, her body rocking as her toes dug into the sod and his hands fell like rain on her ass and thighs.

“That’s it, you dirty girl! Hump your hands!” He watched as her face reddened, watched her luscious mouth open in moaning gasps with each stinging slap of his palm.

“You’re such a dirty girl, Rebecca,” he said, focusing on tormenting her sweet spot. “My filthy dirty little girl.”

He knew she loved being called a dirty girl, knew it was a trigger for her, that it heightened her arousal and so he applied it as liberally. He wanted to watch her come that way, being spanked for being a dirty girl, climaxing because she was being a dirty girl… His Dirty Girl.

His hands were hot and tingly, and his wrists had begun to ache, but he did not stop. He renewed his efforts, his fingers occasionally landing on her slick pussy lips, spanking her tenderest parts. More swats from him, more squirming and gasps from her. Her ass and thighs were painted with pink handprints and black fingerprints. She looked like a crime of passion, writhing there on the grass in her prelude to the Little Death.

“Who would have guessed that the preacher’s daughter was such a dirty girl?” he said knowingly, reproducing with those words what she’d felt the day they’d first met.

When he said those words, Rebecca’s body convulsed. She cried out, her chest raising up off the grass as she wailed her pleasure. It was an intense, encompassing, delirious orgasm witnessed only by cedar trees and stone angels — and the man who had caught her humping a statue and captured her heart by calling her a Dirty Girl.

*  *  *

For more erotica by Kayar Silkenvoice visit shop.SilkenOnSex.com

The more stressed I am, the more I want sex. Want it to the point where I can find repeated statements in my journal to the effect that I felt I needed sex. Not comfort, not conversation, not food, not sleep. Sex. Which many people I know consider rather strange. “How can you want sex at a time like this?” is a question I was asked recently, and not for the first time.

I’ve noticed a correlation between my drive for sex and my exposure to stress, especially that very un-sexy form of stress relating to death and dying. Given that in the past three years there have been five cancer diagnoses, two non-cancer related catastrophic illnesses, two deaths, and one impending death in my family, as well as my tendency to write down my thoughts and experiences, I’ve got a wealth of anecdotal material chronicling my responses to this sort of stress. And my response is usually: “Let’s fuck!”

When I examine it from psychological perspective it makes a lot of sense: sex is the exercise of the procreative urge and thus the antithesis of death. It is an affirmation of life. From a biological standpoint, sex stimulates the release of four important molecules responsible for feelings of bliss: dopamine, anandamide, endorphins, and oxytocin. Now, when you’re sad, stressed, and anxious, doctors are always eager to offer anti-depressants, mood-elevators, and anti-anxiety meds, but I’ve found that none of them work so well as that hormonal cocktail my body releases when I’ve had a really good session in the bedroom  (or the bathroom, or the kitchen, or the beach, or… or…).

In some ways, I’m an orgasm-junkie. When I’m mad at my partner and my adrenaline is flowing, I want to fuck. Lets get some of that oxytocin and serotonin and vasopressin flowing as well. Frustrated at work? I take a break in my car or the ladies room for a quick release and almost instantaneous attitude adjustment. Sad? There’s nothing like a lover’s hands and eyes and voice to raise my spirits, make me feel loved and desired. Generally stressed? I want to lose myself in a world of pleasure and sensation and I seek it out as soon as I am able.

Now, as I’ve been researching the issue of Sex and Stress (see related articles below), I’ve noticed a lot of articles, reports, and blog posts stating that stress suppresses sex drive in men and women alike — which struck me as very odd. While I know I’m different in my own subtle ways, I am not a mutant freak of nature. So why is it that I turn to masturbation, intercourse, etc — self-soothing as my therapist used to call it — when everyone else seems to dry up to the point that sex seems to be the furthest thing on their minds?

The answer, I think, is that for most people, sex itself is stressful. Which totally sucks. The best stress-reliever in the world, the best source of bliss, well-being, and contentment drugs in the world — the act of making love with someone — is stressful for most people. Which makes me sad, and is a primary motivator for the erotic work I do: trying to make sex something positive in a society for which sexual self-expression has so many negative connotations.

There is a lot of material out there about how to deal with stress interfering with your sex life, but not so much out there about how to deal with feeling stressed about sex itself. Other than popping viagra or cialis, of course. Perhaps it is because there is a unspoken agreement that people should feel stressed about sex?  I don’t know.

What I do know is that sex is natural, desire is natural, and the desire for sex is natural. Sex produces a wide range of positive biochemical effects in people. And it is a great stress-reliever in and of itself. So the next time someone asks you “You want sex now? At a time like this?” say “Hell yeah!” and head for the nearest bed.

Related articles

• Sex, Stress, and Neurogenesis (scienceblogs.com)
• Sex or a Good Night’s Sleep? (lifescript.com)
• Sex Does a Body Good (lifescript.com)
• Well-laid and laid-back (psychology today)
• When it Comes to Sex and Dating, We Suck (chicagonow.com)
• Is It Still “Good Sex” If You Don’t Have an Orgasm? (marieclaire.com)
• 7 ways to beat stress for better sex (idiva.com)
• This just in: Sex relieves stress (salon.com)
• Stress: Sex is the first casualty (london times)
• The science of love (youramazingbrain.org)
• Sex and Death, Connection of (deathreference.com)

Silken on Sex #66:
Celibacy has been in the news lately, and I don’t just mean the pious form of celibacy. I’m talking grown women and men choosing celibacy as a form of their sexual self-expression. Yes, that’s right: Celibacy is a form of sexual self-expression — it is possible to be celibate without being chaste. (Can you say masturbation boys and girls?)

I am an advocate of the practice of libidinous celibacy. At first the juxtaposition of those two words would appear to be paradoxical, but I know from personal experience that such is not the case. A libidinous person may be someone who has lustful thoughts or is otherwise preoccupied with the drives of the libido…without necessarily acting upon them with a partner.

Few adults can abstain from sexual intercourse (ie, be celibate) and not experience rising frustration at the sublimation of such a primitive and instinctual biological drive. As time passes, this biological drive manifests as a psychological one as well, and the mind becomes preoccupied with libidinous thoughts. Thus, the term libidinous celibacy is not an oxymoron, but an apothegm.

About 5 years ago I found myself newly single. Newly single, and with more than a few people interested in filling the position vacated by my unlamented lover. So many, in fact, that I was a bit overwhelmed. Given that it had been over a decade since I’d been without a partner or a few, I decided to explore my new singleton status by boldly choosing to remain celibate for 6 months.

I think some of my friends had bets on how long I’d last, and I know every one of them bet I’d give up and go boink someone long before my time was up. What no one expected though, was that I’d extend it by 3 more months — which is what I did. I found that, after 6 months of carrying on a torrid love-affair with myself, I wasn’t ready to share. I wanted to keep me all to myself :)

I dated actively, mind you, and had some incredibly hot make-out / frottage sessions, but the only person I had actual sex with was myself. And my toys.  Mustn’t forget them! I had my hitachi magic wand system (the frugal girl’s sybian at 10% the cost), my waterproof rabbit (the perfect bath-time companion), my ben wa balls (always put a smile on my face at the gym), and I can’t forget my Chocolate Dream dildo, which made me come so hard I pulled a muscle in my back the first time I used it. Whee! With those, and a micro-fleece electric throw, I needed neither man, nor woman, nor a cat (which my ex took with her) to put a smile on my face every night.

Looking back, I know it was good for me to be unattached and celibate for a change, good for me to take all that energy that had been tied up in sex and relationships and put it to more productive use elsewhere. I was very happy. My health was great. Without someone at home to distract me, I took the time to develop some of my other talents, and with sex off the table, I learned what intimacy and connection really were. I learned that, as a woman, I didn’t need to be with someone in order to be someone.  And I also learned that having a love-affair with myself meant that one doesn’t have to be a lonely number. Practicing libidinous celibacy thrilled me to the bone!

Don’t miss a single naughty bit — subscribe now and get the Silken On Sex Ezine by Email.

Related articles:

• Lady GaGa Is Celibate – And She Wants The Same For You! (perezhilton.com)
• The Celibacy Cleanse: Sex Avoidance for Better Health (blisstree.com)
• No more sex in the city (darkerme.com)
• Celibacy: a curse or a blessing – Dr. Shriniwas Kashalikar (slideshare.net)
• Is priestly celibacy healthy? (osv.com)

A: Paul, I don’t think there is anything wrong with you. If you ever listen to Dan Savage, he cautions against what he calls the “death grip” during masturbation. He speaks to the vanilla community for the most part, but his words are applicable to practitioners of kinky/fetish sexuality as well. What does be mean by “death grip” masturbation? Finding what works and never deviating from it. Males discover at rather young ages that if they touch themselves in a certain way, it feels really, really good and then they cum. And having found that path to the ultimate superfeeling, they rarely try anything else. Do that for decades and it becomes more and more likely that you’ll “need” that specific stimulation to cum. Women also fall into the same trap.  We find a certain way of touching ourselves or a specific kind of vibrator or dildo that finally makes it possible for us to climax and then we stick to it, repeating as necessary, ad nauseum.

You say you are a fetishist, which means that some inanimate object (a shoe, a hairbrush, panties, etc) is sexually charged for you in ways that it is not for others. Often, this is tied to a childhood experience — like you were sitting under the kitchen table touching yourself and your mother walked in wearing a certain kind of shoe that was forever cemented in your memory. Maybe she even caught you touching yourself and shamed you. Turned you over her knee and pulled your pants down and spanked you with her hairbrush — which felt good because her soft skirt rubbed up against your naughty bits. These sorts of occurrences are usually the genesis of fetishes. This doesn’t mean that there is anything wrong with you, either. It was simply your first naughty “zing” experience and you’ve built more and more elaborate fantasies over it in order to keep that “naughty zing” feeling going.

So, assuming that you are healthy, ie that you aren’t a diabetic with neuropathy or taking medication that interferes with arousal or blood-flow, there isn’t anything wrong with you.  When, as you’ve said in your case, you can only achieve orgasm if the circumstances are just-so, and that bothers you or your partner, well, then I would say that you have a problem rather than that there is something wrong. If, for example, you can’t cum unless you are on your knees masturbating imagining a woman in a black latex catsuit whipping your cock with a crop, well, likely this is because you’ve spent years fine-tuning this fantasy. I would be surprised if it wasn’t getting harder and harder for you to climax or that you are having to imagine more and more extreme things in order to get off. If this is indeed the case, change is in order.

First, I’d like to remind you that sex isn’t necessarily about climaxing. Most women get this, because many of us cannot achieve orgasm during intercourse. If most women don’t cum during sex (or even masturbation), you might be thinking “why bother?” The answer is simple: we do it because it feels good.

Second, let go of your death grip and get back in touch with your body. Empty your mind — don’t entertain your normal fantasies, don’t look at your usual porn. If you absolutely must engage your mind, locate erotic stories in text or audio formats in a completely different genre than your usual. Change hands. Close your eyes. Explore your body. Touch those places you never touch. Tease your nipples. Twiddle with the shaft-skin, especially the frenulum just underneath the head of your cock. On many men it can be as sensitive as a woman’s clit but most never know they’ve got such an amazing pleasure point there. Play with your balls — roll them around, tug on the skin. Press behind and underneath your balls until you feel it deep inside, where your prostate is.  Try toys for men, like the Aneros or the Fleshlight. I recommend them often and none of the men I know who’ve tried them have any regrets, except perhaps that they didn’t try them sooner.

Third, when you find a new method of stimulation that you can come from, repeat it a couple of times to make sure you’ve got it down, and move on. Keep trying to discover new ways to make yourself come. Think of it as a scavenger hunt with your body as the map and each new way of coming as buried treasure just waiting to be discovered.

And four, invite your partner to participate. Men are used to doing a lot of work to make a woman cum, what with all the finger and tongue action, the toys, the positions, the faster, the slower, the right-there-don’t-stop etc. Ask your wife for the same courtesy. Invite her to help you explore your body and discover new erogenous zones that will give you the same zing you felt when you first discovered what sexual pleasure was.

If none of the above works for you, try finding a sex therapist or sex coach — a sexological bodyworker, for example  — or a local group focused on exploring tantric sex. The important thing is to recognize that your habitual way of masturbating now has control of your sexuality and to commit to doing whatever it takes to reclaim that control.

And lastly, Paul, thank you for the compliment on my voice. I do, indeed, record custom audio stories, guided masturbation sessions, and more. Email me if you want more information.

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Bored with your sex life?  Looking for a way to spice things up? Silkenvoice spins hot erotic stories for your listening pleasure. Visit the shop at SilkenOnSex.com for audibly erotic tales that are intimately told.

Arising from my bed. The world is still asleep. Silence. Its almost tangible. It lays over my ears like an amplifier. Every creak, every squirrel chitter, every bird twitter, is audible, even from inside.

Coffee. Micro-roasted, the ‘Fat Albert’ blend. The scent is amazing, the taste as amazing as the scent, its flavor moderated with a dollop of heavy cream. Real cream.

It is moist outside. The air caresses my skin, masking my face in cool mist. So refreshing and invigorating. Green. So many shades of green. The guest from England said we have more shades of green here even than in the British Isles. The daffodils and tulips are blooming. The bamboo is dangling diamond droplets from its leaves. The primroses are showing their colours, and my winter daphne is still blooming, sharing its scent with the breeze.

Life. “Every day you wake up and then there’s a new day,” says a very dear friend. Ambivalence or Acceptance? Striving to enjoy the sensual immediacy of the moment–of every moment–even with the concerns of the day pressing, pressing, always pressing. Pressure in my pelvis. An easy pressure to release.

Deep breath. Scanning my body. Holding tension in my shoulders, my abdomen, my low back. Exhaling. Shoulders drop, hips shift. Better.

Back inside. Altar. Lighting incense. Sitting zazen. A nod to Buddha, so sanguine and magnanimous. Om. A timeless moment of blankness, of purity. Better. Much better.

Breath. Breathing. Drawing energy upwards from my pelvis. Hips rolling forward as I inhale, rolling back as I exhale. Gentle pressure along my perineum and the entrance to my vagina. Arousal rises with the gentle rocking, and with it, heat.

More rocking breaths, more heat, more energy to draw up, up, up through the top of my head. As the energy flows, so does the wetness. I can feel my labia part as I breathe and rock, breathe and rock, feeling the power of my arousal, so pure, so languid. There is no urgency, only pleasure radiating through me, orange-gold and potent.

The brush of my fingers against my labia sends a thrill up my spine. Nipples harden, sending the thrill back down my belly, racing toward my clitoris. Breath. Breathe. Breathing. Rocking. Rolling. Pressing. Pressing the button, reversing the flow of energy, flooding my pelvis.

Orgasm. Bliss. Hiccuping breath. More rocking. More breathing. Another caress of my mound. Fingers pressing. Orgasm and bliss. Endless cycle until breathing is ragged and I find myself laying on my back, staring at the ceiling.

No-thought. No tension. Just bliss.

Good morning, world.

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One of my female listeners contacted me recently with some questions:

I must admit that I’m envious of you, Silken. You express yourself so eloquently and you describe experiences that are beyond my wildest imaginings. Tame as it may be, my greatest fantasy these days is to achieve orgasm during intercourse. Why can’t I come? Do you have any advice for me?

I do. And the advice that follows is good for women and their lovers to hear:

For men, orgasm is required for procreation, and so you’ve evolved to go from limp to ejaculation in 3 minutes. For women all that is necessary is to have an egg in the chute. So if orgasm isn’t necessary, why is it possible? Well, part of it is that women have the same or simlar muscles that are involved in male orgasm. But the other part, I think, has to do with keeping men around–so listen up guys. In terms of procreation, if a male has no way of knowing when a female is fertile, then his object is to have intercourse with her as often as possible until she is impregnated — and what better way to make sure you will be welcomed again and again than to make a woman come?

In my experience, in order for a woman to reach orgasm during intercourse, she must be comfortable with herself and her partner, and highly aroused.

To facilitate your goal of orgasm during intercourse, my first recommendation would be to masturbate frequently–if you can’t come solo, it is unlikely that you will be able to come with anyone else. For me, any excuse to masturbate will do, especially when I am feeling frustrated. Most women need an erotic fantasy in their minds, whether it is watching a sexy movie, reading or listening to erotica like mine or playing through your own personal sexual fantasy. It is important to begin with this, with getting your mind into the mood, because your body will follow, and your mind and body both have to be aroused in order for orgasm to happen.

If you have difficulty climaxing with masturbation, I would recommend purchasing a Hitachi Magic Wand. It is an amazing vibrator, useful both for sex and for muscle massage. There are different places to press the vibrator–some women put it directly over the clit(with or without padding) while others, like me, press it against the pubic arch between the clit and the vaginal opening, or against the perineum between the vaginal opening and the anus. Experiment. There is no wrong way to do it–however it feels best is what is best for you.

Once you’ve got masturbating to orgasm down, I recommend that you invite your partner to watch you. He or she can learn a lot from watching where you touch yourself, what tempo you use, and what your body language looks like as your arousal level peaks. From there, the next step would be to let your partner help with your masturbation, whether it is massaging your clit or nipples, or slipping fingers inside you. A woman’s capacity for pleasure is immense and women are amazing when they climax — most partners are only to happy to be a part of the process.

I had difficultly climaxing with partners when I was younger, in fact, for years, the only way I could come during penetrative sex was with a vibrator on my clit and my partner pushed deep inside me with my legs locked around his hips. Once I got coming in that position down, I tried others. Doggie style with a vibrator on my clit was amazing, and in that position, it is possible to do the pre-orgasm muscle-lock without interfering with his pumping action. I also find that sitting astride my partner with the vibrator on my clit is a great way to climax–supposedly the easiest position for most women. In discovering what works for you, you must learn not to be shy about experimenting and asserting what you want, whether it is “Right there. Don’t stop”, or “Move a little to the left.” Also, Don’t expect your partner to be a mindreader, especially when you yourself aren’t certain about what you want. You might also consider inviting him or her to be a part of the process, lending your their experience and creativity.

I also recommend something many people don’t think about: Anal stimulation. There are as many nerve endings around that little spot as there are on your lips. This means that your ass is very sensitive and can be a source of tremendous pleasure. There are little bullet vibes that can be pressed against it — you don’t need penetration to experience incredible sensations. However, I can say that the most consistently amazing orgasms I’ve had involve anal penetration so I encourage you to go to an online shop like www.BabeLand.com and look at what toys are recommended for anal play.

For most women, vibrators and other toys are an integral part of sexual intercourse, and most partners, male and female alike, understand and accept it. Most people are willing to do whatever it takes to see that our partners get to experience the pinnacle of pleasure.

Ultimately, achieving orgasm, solo or with others, and with or without toys is about you. Being comfortable in your own skin, being comfortable exploring your body, and being comfortable finding erotic material that arouses you. Own your body. Relax into it. Accept the challenge of mastering your own pleasure. Recognize that youy don’t have to come to feel very, very good. Build on the erotic energy and you will come.

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We were over at a friend’s house, leaning against the stone wall that separated us from a 300 foot drop into the ocean. The sun was shining and the sky was clear of any clouds. If we’d been further inland the temperature would have been in the 80′s, but as it was, the ocean breeze was brisk enough to make me shiver once in a while. He put an arm around me and I nuzzled his neck. His body warmth and the naturally spicy scent of him immediately enthralled me.

“When we get home…” I started.

“Yes?”

“When we get home I want to tie you to my bed and ride you.”

He made an interesting noise and pressed himself into me. I could feel his hardness against my belly. It was a tease and a promise.

A couple of hours later we headed home. I reached into the glove box for a toy and then reclined my seat. He didn’t complain when I plugged the vibrator into the outlet, but he did shoot me an exasperated look that said can’t you wait? My answer was to put my right foot on the dashboard and slide my left hand under my skirt. Waay up under my skirt.

Every guy fantasizes about having a girl who is always ready for sex, he told me once. Until he gets one and realizes what a nightmare keeping her satisfied can be. I chose not to take offense to this wry self-honesty on his part. I’ve found that my sex drive intimidates most of the men I date.

The drive home from Pacifica took seven or eight minutes. Enough time for me to have an orgasm and perfume the two-seater with the scent of pussy. When we pulled into the garage I leaned over and kissed him, teasing his mouth with my tongue. When he reached for me I opened the car door and dashed up the stairs.

He chased after me and caught me just inside the door. He pressed me up against the wall with his body and ground his cock against my mound, making me gasp when the seam on his jeans rolled over my clit.

I would have dropped to my knees right there if it wasn’t for the fact that my mind was fixated on tying him to my bed. I wanted him that way. And so I grabbed his hand and pushed past him toward my bedroom, toward the scarf-draped hat stand that beckoned with promises of silken ties.

“Why is it so difficult for me to get my O when I’m with my lover?” An online friend asked me almost despairingly. Which got me thinking.

In many ways, one could say that a woman’s sensual energy is boundless, and that when she readies herself for her lover she opens a gate to her sensual self. This gate is the barrier of restraint, and beyond it lies the Land of Pleasure. We know this land, and we do so love crossing over into it, and yet most women rarely enter. Why? Because we have a near-infinite capacity for pleasure, and men do not. Because arousal for us is not the flipping of a switch, but the unfolding of a flower following the rising sun. Because men aren’t as intuitive as they could be. And because the habit of disappointment is difficult to break. How often do women open themselves to full arousal only to find that their lover has finished just as she was getting started? What woman doesn’t half-expect her burgeoning arousal to become instant irritation because her boyfriend misread the signals and gave her nipples a hard tweak instead of a suck?

In their defense, men aren’t mind-readers — and neither are women. Each of us has a fair chance of getting our needs met if we communicate them clearly, provided that we understand what those needs are. And this is where it can get tricky for women. We need the long build-up. We need our minds aroused first, and then our bodies follow. We need to feel connected to our bodies, to be fully present to the pleasures of our own flesh before we are ready to grant a lover access. Only, sadly enough, many women don’t even know this about themselves. This lack of coherency means we expect our partners to intuit our needs — or expect them to fail miserably. Thus the habit of disappointment.

My recommendation to men is to begin the seduction of their lovers 5 or 6 hours before they hope for consummation. Send suggestive text messages to her cell phone. Leave an innocent voicemail in your sexiest voice. Tell her you can’t get the scent of her off your mind. Remind her of an encounter that you know was pleasurable for you both. Depending on how she responds, build the tension up. Ask her to remove her panties. See if she will meet you at lunch to give them to you. Message her that you have to go into a meeting but your cock is hard from the memory of her taste / smell / skin / sounds. Ask her to take off from work an hour early so she can go for a massage / pedicure, or to find the surprise waiting for her at home. Be creative, appreciative, and if possible, both raunchy and respectful. Women have their raunchy sides and they’d show them more often if not for the fear of seeming ‘less’ in their lovers eyes.

And my advice to women? Take the time to open the gate to your sensual self — prepare yourself for your lover. Take a long bath in scented water. Shave yourself slowly, letting your fingers trail over the smooth skin. Imagine your lover’s enjoyment of that silken flesh. Rub oil into your skin — everywhere. Touch yourself. Enjoy the weight of your breasts and the sensitivity of your nipples. Slide your hands down over your hips and dip them between your thighs. Caress your neck and shoulders. Put your hair up in a suggestive bedroom-do. Wear something soft, something that makes you feel sexy. Tease him with naughty messages. Tell him you’re not wearing panties. Wear a garter belt and stockings under your skirt on a windy day, and enjoy the knowledge that you’ve made several men happy when you walked by. Flirt. Exercise. Glow with happiness and sensuality. Be feminine in a way that is natural to you. Tell your lover exactly what you want, in the most explicit language you can use. Do these things and you can walk through the gate to the Land of Pleasure without fear of disappointment. You will be ready for a banquet of sensuality, and he will be your devoted diner.

In this episode, Silken tells the story of a woman’s excitement over the anticipated arrival of Big Wally, her Sybian.