Connecting to Tenderness in The Wounded Masculine

“Patriarchy teaches boys that masculinity means control, emotional invulnerability, sexual access, public authority and distance from everything coded female. It teaches them that anger is strength, grief is weakness, care is emasculating and women’s attention is a resource owed to them if they perform masculinity correctly….

 

….This is the crisis. Not ‘men are monsters.’ Not ‘boys are born bad.’ Not ‘women good, men bad, please clap.’ The crisis is that boys are being handed a broken emotional toolkit and then told the hammer is the only instrument a real man should need….

 

….I hate the system that teaches boys to amputate parts of themselves and then calls the wound masculinity…

 

…Need is human, while entitlement is political. A man needing love, care, intimacy, friendship, sex, belonging, respect, purpose and tenderness is not a problem. Those are human needs, Everyone has them. Everyone is shaped by whether they receive them….

 

…..Patriarchy is killing us. It is killing women through violence, control, medical neglect, forced pregnancy, economic inequality….It is killing men too, through isolation, emotional repression, grievance, politics, violence, addiction, despair (war – my addition) and the lie that being loved is less important than being obeyed. Feminism did not create this crisis. Feminism is just one of the few traditions honest enough to name it….

 

….Men and boys are not in crisis because women got too mean, too educated, too independent, too feminist… They are in crisis because patriarchy promised them a throne and gave them a cage. And some of them are so attached to the cage they cannot even see the bars.”

 

 Professor Meredith Bitchy History on Substack

 

I read Professor Meredith’s brilliantly written and sometimes laugh-out-loud funny article while drinking my morning coffee in the garden as the day warmed up. It had been another viciously hot week and being able to sit and enjoy a coffee was a rare treat. The birds were singing and the garden humming with life – so much abundance, so much joy, so much life. 

 

I watched the cats stretch out in the early rays, enjoying the soft breeze before the heat of the day became something to hide from, and I wondered how did we all get so lost? How did we all get so disconnected from how beautiful and magical and abundant life is?

 

The answer is always the same. 

 

A system of hierarchy and control that was created to separate us from the world around us and from each other. Separated and disconnected from the magical abundance of life and our innate creativity, we flap around like fish out of water, desperate to breathe but in completely the wrong environment to do so. 

 

Of course a fish out of water won’t survive long. The GENIUS of patriarchy is to make it survivable but only that – survivable.

 

Let me be clear. Patriarchy is not men. Men are not patriarchy. 

 

Patriarchy is a system of extraction and exploitation. It uses hierarchy as an instrument of control. Of course, if you are slightly up the hierarchical ladder you feel “good” when you look down on those beneath you, but it’s still only survival, just in a slightly nicer suit.

 

To thrive humans need to feel connected. We need intimacy, both platonic and sexual. We need belonging – with an intimate partner (or partners), within a family and within a community of deeply trusted friends. In order to develop and nourish these intimacies we need the emotional skills to ask for what we need/desire and to hear (without defence) what others need/desire from us.

 

We need to reach adulthood skilled in kindness, compassion, love, patience, honesty, courage, open-heartedness, tenderness. We need to be able to feel and safely express the full range of our emotions.

 

But patriarchy does not want us to thrive. A thriving population would learn its collective power and so would strive together, in unison, for independence, self-governance and sovereignty. 

 

You can’t exploit a thriving and empowered population. 

 

You can’t control people who know their own power and see and celebrate the power in the people around them. 

 

You can’t control people who collaborate with one another instead of competing as they have been programmed to do. 

 

But you can control people if you train them from a very young age into roles that will define them, and their relationships with other people, for life. The Jesuits famously proclaimed, “Give me the boy until the age of 7 and I will give you the man.” I watched as my children were conditioned, despite my best efforts, by people and wider society around me.

 

One day particularly stands out in my memory. I had walked the youngest across the fields to meet his school bus at the other end of the village as we did most mornings. We had had a particularly lovely walk, he has always had an incredible, enquiring mind and interesting perspective on the world and I have always deeply valued our chats. 

 

On that morning we were feeling particularly connected and him leaving me to go to school, which would bore his beautiful, inquisitive mind to death, felt like a cruel wrench – for both of us. 

 

The mini-bus drew up as we were swapping red wellies for black school shoes and we both started feeling really emotional – we weren’t ready for the impending separation. Neither of us wanted to be separated (separating children from their families for compulsory education is an essential tool of patriarchy), I was holding back tears and “being brave.” 

 

My little boy was less tightly programmed than me – he was still young, they’d had him for far fewer years than they had had me – and he started crying in great big sobs. It really tugged at my heart, but that was not what was making me want to cry. I wanted to cry because I didn’t want to be parted from my joyous, beautiful boy any more than he wanted to be parted from me.

 

As we stepped onto the bus so that I could settle him into his seat, the old, kindly Santa-look-a-like bus driver said, “Pull it together lad – look you’re making your mother cry – man up!”

 

I was furious. I turned on the sweet old man who was, after all, only repeating the harm done to him, and hissed, “How dare you! Crying is a perfectly acceptable and honest expression of emotion and a sign of a healthy person. DO NOT presume to tell my son how he should behave.”

 

Of course my words were wasted. The damage was done. Patriarchy had won, again. My boy didn’t come home a completely changed being, but it was another brick in the wall. 

 

The kindly Santa-look-a-like bus driver seemingly played a very peripheral role in my son’s life – he only drove the mini bus to and from a school. Yet he was one of the men who raised my son, the men in society beyond my front door, and therefore beyond my control, who taught my boys what it is to be a man. 

 

I am a woman. I cannot raise boys to be men. I am a model for girls, not boys. On that morning the bus driver amputated a part of my young son’s emotional body. My boy carries that wound into adulthood, it was one of the lessons that helped him to define and understand what it is “to be a man.” 

 

It’s such a cliché but in 2016/17 my beautiful boy learned that TO BE A MAN you must:

 

  1. Not cry
  2. Not upset your mother

 

This is a huge wound that needs healing. 

 

Children are NEVER responsible for their parent’s emotional states – that is the job of adults, not children. Yet my young boy had just been told by an older (thus to be respected) MAN (i.e. role model on masculinity for my boy) that he was indeed responsible for my emotional states. 

 

And worse, he learnt this in the year his parents – the people who should keep him safe – were themselves going through a divorce thanks to their own unresolved childhood trauma.

 

I hope that my son, now a young man, will be challenged in relationship to heal this wound. Or maybe he will find a good therapist, a men’s healing group or a shaman skilled in using plant medicine? Sadly the wound is below the level of consciousness and he lives in a society in which carrying this wound is the entry criteria to “masculinity.”

 

So, when after a particularly beautiful and intimate session with a client, lying, limbs entangled on the bed, he mused that feminism had gone too far and made intimacy too difficult for men and women I was honestly lost for words (a rare event for me!)

 

I clearly live in a completely different algorithmic world to him. I am not fed manosphere diatribes against feminism, I am fed Bitchy History diatribes against patriarchy! I am not reading that the feminist fight for bodily self autonomy and the right to choice in our lives is somehow to blame for the crisis in “masculinity.”

 

I think he thought that because I am a sexually active woman who loves cock and offers a professional sex service I am somehow not a feminist? I took a deep breath, reminded myself to be kind and said something like, “How does women having choice harm men?”

 

Flustered, (he obviously realised a bit too late that he had ejaculated all over a real life feminist) he replied, “No….but it’s gone a bit too far hasn’t it?”

 

“In what way?” I asked.

 

When he didn’t reply I offered, “It seems to me that you think feminism is some kind of war against men? It really isn’t. It’s a war against a system of oppression and control that harms men just as much as it harms women. If only men could see how trapped and exploited they are and then either join women in fighting patriarchy as feminists or create a parallel movement to fight with us for freedom for us all?”

 

I had said too much. The cognitive dissonance was writ large on his face and he muttered about not being as well read as me and fled to the shower. 

 

When you’re not enduring a relationship with a man who’s stuck in the algorithmic manosphere it is easy to have compassion for them. They are clearly being manipulated into hating and fearing THEIR PATH TO FREEDOM. 

 

Yes women were the first (of the two genders) to see that patriarchy is shit, we’ve read, written, talked, marched and even self-pleasured our way towards freedom and we love nothing more than when men (with the beautiful cocks we so enjoy sucking and fucking) join us in that fight.

 

But obviously patriarchy is going to fight back. Obviously the machine will pay to boost a few toxic individuals who eagerly tell men, “It’s all women’s fault” to keep men from the warrior women who could work with them towards freedom, power, personal sovereignty and meaningful connected community.

 

The cage that patriarchy works so hard to keep men in is incredibly brutal. From birth boys are conditioned to disconnect from, suppress, judge and shame essentially human traits. Let’s list just a few:

 

Sensitivity – being alert and receptive to the mood in the room, your own and other’s emotions, states of wellbeing and energies. Shut down because a “sensitive man” is a sissy. (Patriarchy doesn’t only seek to shut down sensitivity in men – I was raised in a family that used the label “over-sensitive” not as a compliment, but as an affliction to grow out of.)

 

Collaboration and cooperation – sacrificed on the altar of competition as boys are taught that being Number 1 – A Winner – is more desirable than working collectively within community to reach an outcome that benefits everyone.

 

Kindness – left to women.

 

Compassion – left to women.

 

Empathy – left to women.

 

Tenderness – what even is that? Definitely left to women.

 

Crying – don’t ever do this!! And never, ever allow yourself to feel anything that might make you cry. Crying effectively equals woman. Only women and babies cry. A man who cries is effectively cutting off his own balls. 

 

Which brings me onto: 

 

Circumcision – the single most effective and brutal act inflicted by patriarchy on infant boys. You cannot argue that it’s not both cruel and unnecessary, yet half the planet is still circumcising their infant boys who live with the consequences of trauma and reduced sensitivity for life. 

 

You still think patriarchy is something you want to defend by attacking feminists?!

 

In my session today I was very preoccupied with the concept of tenderness. What would tenderness even look like in a man? What is tenderness? How is a man tender? 

 

I was musing over these questions as I lit my candles and incense, connected my playlist to the speaker, showered, dressed, applied lipstick and mascara. Could I think of a moment when I had witnessed or experienced tenderness in a man?

 

My client arrived – a Musubi/Kama session – I invited him to undress and lie down and guided him through a short body meditation. He relaxed quickly and fell into a deep trance, “excellent” I thought. I asked him to roll over onto his front which he did almost without stirring, again – “excellent” I thought. 

 

His body reacted quickly to the massage and despite the heat in the room I gave him a really sexy, deeply sensual and highly erotic massage. He hadn’t been sure whether he wanted a prostate massage, I had suggested that we follow his body’s desires (or lack of) and go where the energy flowed. His body screamed for a prostate massage – all the classic signs – bum pushing up towards my hands as they glided over it, relaxed buttocks, soft anal rose. 

 

Gingerly and very slowly, I entered him. I applied gentle pressure to his prostate whilst I stroked his shaft, frenulum and balls with my free hand. He was moaning with pleasure, his cock hard, he was pushing back against my finger, but I knew this was the first time for him and I know the released energies are powerful. He had a beautiful cock which I wanted to feel deep down my throat and deep inside in my cunt, I didn’t want to make his energy too powerful for him to ride.

 

So I withdrew my finger and sat astride him, grinding my vulva into his buttocks for a few moments, moving the energy I had just activated between and around our two bodies, while I removed the glove I had worn to penetrate him. Then I leant forward and whispered in his ear, “Roll over.” I raised myself up allowing him to roll over underneath me so that as his face came around he was met with an eyeful of oily breast. 

 

He immediately took hold of them and buried his face deep into their generous flesh, his fingers finding my nipples which you will know, if you have ever spent any time with me, always makes me come. He hadn’t met me before, he felt my juices beginning to flow over his cock and between his legs, “That feels amazing” he sighed. 

 

“Pinch harder” I replied, kissing him full on the mouth knowing that what was about to come would blow his mind as it always does. He pinched and then, as invited, bit down on my nipples. The heavens opened, the longed for rain gushed over him and he was soaked. 

 

 It was too much for him. 

 

“I’m going to come,” he gasped. I could see him desperately fighting the urge to come, tensing his body, tightening his face – tension and tightness accelerate the process and before I could coach him into long gentle exhales to relax and allow, he had come – copious amounts of beautiful sperm all over his sacrum and hip, my thigh and the bed. There is something endlessly magical and miraculous about sperm isn’t there?

 

His exhilaration and intense pleasure was immediately fighting disappointment and shame. 

 

Disappointment that his session – for him – had come to an end and shame that he had failed to control his pleasure and come “too soon.” I could see his inner turmoil and frustration and I did what any self respecting tantric whore would do, I invited him to relax and receive pleasure in a softer, gentler, calmer state.

 

I have brought countless men to orgasm post ejaculation. Many are only too pleased to lie and fully relax, even sleep lightly, as I work my magic with my hands. Post ejaculation men can fall into a deep, deep place of relaxation and in this place it is so much easier to move energy around the body. Very often, whilst almost asleep, they will then feel the unfamiliar experience of orgasmic energy in their chest, arms, hands, legs, feet.

 

Their cock hardens but hasn’t got the same urgency to come because they are so deeply relaxed. It’s beautiful to watch and very empowering. Yes, I was sad not to ride my client’s cock today, but I was equally excited about pleasing him as he dozed off, building his energy until we were both caught up in the dance again.

 

We had plenty of time left on the clock. I wiped away the sperm, picked up my little bottle of coconut oil and settled myself between his legs to give exquisite pleasure.

 

“Thank you, that was amazing. Can I have a shower?” said the voice at the other end of the bed.

 

“Would you not accept my invitation to receive pleasure in a softer, gentler, quieter state?”

 

He lay quietly for a bit, but his legs stayed upright, feet planted on the bed either side of me, knees restricting the movement of my arms, creating a protective barrier around his cock. This was not a body open to receiving or relaxing back into pleasure.

 

I persevered. I stroked, twisted, licked and even sucked his beautiful soft cock. At moments it throbbed its appreciation and I smiled back, “I know it’s lovely to experience tenderness.”

 

TENDERNESS. 

 

That word again. In that moment I was in the wound. And I understood what tenderness is. 

 

Tenderness is softness. 

 

Tenderness is being soft, feeling soft, sharing soft.

 

Pleasure can be so soft – think of a feather stroking across skin. But men are conditioned to expect and require their cocks to be hard. Only a hard cock earns the right to be grasped, stroked, teased, licked, sucked, fucked. 

 

My client today was clearly deeply uncomfortable receiving pleasure in softness. His cock wasn’t. It was throbbing appreciatively in my hands and mouth. But his mind – the seat of patriarchal conditioning – was roaring NO!!! YOU HAVE NOT EARNED THIS!!

 

When he asked again if he could go and have a shower of course I didn’t deny his request. I was sad that he was unable to receive my loving attention post ejaculation, but I wasn’t going to force myself on him. 

 

I smiled, held his cock in one hand, placed the other on his heart chakra, took a few deep heart connected breaths, sent my love through my hands to his heart and his cock and then withdrew my touch and escorted him to the bathroom.

 

And I’m left with a new question to muse over this afternoon – how can a man show tenderness towards others, his partner, children, friends, society, the planet when he can’t allow himself to feel tenderness within himself? 

 

If he’s uncomfortable with being soft, how can he give the people in his life and beyond, the softness that they yearn for, crave and need? 

 

Can you feel the wound?

 

Can you see how patriarchy harms men and the people that they love?

 

Are you beginning to see the bars of the cage?

 

Are you ready to join us in resistance to reclaim your personal sovereignty, or will you carry on blaming women?

 

26.06.2026

 

Photo by Nour Wageh on Unsplash  

Are You Ready to Unleash Your Full Orgasm? Could Your Arse Take a Fist?

“WOW….that was mindblowing…”

 

I am quite used to this response and it always pleases me. I devote my body and my full attention to my clients’ pleasure, to activating, expanding and moving energy around their bodies so it’s always reaffirming to hear that I did a good job! Today was a regular Musubi massage, I didn’t allow it to go “off piste”, I don’t know why, intuitively I sensed that he needed a truly tantric experience. 

 

I say “regular”, it was in terms of how interactive it got. It wasn’t in that he had asked if it might be possible for me to fist him. It most certainly was. The human body never fails to fascinate and amaze me and I am just incredibly lucky to have experienced bodies in ways that relatively few people have. 

 

Over the years I have fisted a fair few anuses and worked with other clients towards receiving a full fist. It’s an unusual area to have a speciality in, but I would now claim that I do – it’s all about relaxation and pleasure, pleasure, pleasure. 

 

I begin all my massages with a short meditation to kick start the relaxation process. I use words to both relax my clients and also to impart some instructions and gentle teaching. I don’t use a script, I have the same key pieces of information I want to convey – I want my clients to connect with their breath, to use their senses to drop into their bodies and to feel sensation within. 

 

I want them to relax really, really, really deeply. With my key points at the back of my mind I just allow the words to flow. I allow the energies of the specific moment – theirs, mine, the  room’s, the day’s to guide me and I just allow the words to intuitively bubble out of me. 

 

Generally I close my eyes. I stand naked next to the bed and I notice that as I move into the meditation, feeling it in my body, my arms will rise so that they’re at a “Jesus angle” from my body, palms facing my client. As I guide my client through the breathing my body begins to tingle, I can feel my energy activating, so that before we even touch our energies connect and are beginning to mingle, merge, flow and dance together. 

 

With us both in a deeply relaxed state, feeling our hands and bodies tingling with life-force, creatrix energy, I will remove the blanket I have thrown over his naked body and ask him to roll over onto his front. My first touch is the most intentional of the entire session. Kneeling beside him, I place my left hand over his sacrum and my right hand over his heart chakra. In deep stillness I will pause for a few breaths for his body to accept my hands and for my hands to connect with both his sexual and heart energies. 

 

Then lifting my hands I will apply oil in a spiral over his heart chakra drizzle it down his spine creating a second spiral over his sacrum. Then guided by the music I begin to massage the back of his body with my hands.

 

As I did this today, my left breast slightly touched his right buttock and he inhaled sharply. I smiled, when someone is this sensitive to the touch of my breast it’s a sign that he will feel his energy well and enjoy the experience of it moving through and around his body. 

 

The body gliding part of the massage was highly pleasurable for him and his feet wrapped around my breasts when I massaged them with a combination of fingers, palm, nipple and breast tissue. His pelvis pushed up towards my body as I slid over him. He gasped repeatedly as my breasts massaged his upper back, neck, shoulders, waist, buttocks, inner thighs, legs. I could feel that he was both highly pleasured and deeply relaxed.

 

It was time for the anus. I started with more boob action – partly because men love boobs and I’ve got great boobs that love to be loved – but also because massaging a man’s buttocks with my breasts flows my heart energy into his root chakra, connecting my loving energy with him and making him feel safe before starting an intensely vulnerable anal massage. 

 

Today he really pushed back against my breasts, lifting his pelvis so that my breasts could reach underneath his buttocks and tease his testicles, perineum and cock. I could feel my heart energy penetrating him and it thrilled me.

 

When you understand that sex is essentially about activating and moving energy it changes everything. Most days I am fully connected to an energy that is beyond me (Universe, Source, Divine Love, Goddess) and I feel it moving through me. I don’t give away my reserves of energy, I flow or channel the infinite energy of Goddess through my physical and energetic body for my clients. I feel sure Mary Magdalene did something similar with Jesus. She was a highly trained temple priestess, I’ve just stumbled into this work and experimented, and I find that utterly thrilling. 

 

Finding my balance, I removed one of the two hands that had been steadying my body for this heart/bum fuck and used it to start tracing my fingers down his arse crack, over his anal rose, flowing over the perineum, ball sack and finishing with the tip of his cock. Lifting my body slightly, I reached for the lube with my other hand. I rubbed it all around his arse and applied enough to ensure that all the fingers of my right hand were properly covered. His anal rose was perfect. 

 

Oh my god, if I could choose one anal rose to teach people the joy of anal play it would be his! Exquisitely soft, delicate, completely hairless – he had prepared well which is always a sign of deep respect. I suspect he had given himself a good clean inside as well, fisting is very filling and could possibly be messy if the anus hadn’t been given a good clean out before the session.

 

His sphincter happily drew in my index finger, squeezing it with pulsating pleasure, inviting more. I slowly fed him my middle finger, then added my ring finger, then easily tucking in my pinky finger behind them. He was full but not filled. 

 

I had started in a low position with my left breast within reach of his left hand, but he was very still and seemed distracted rather than pleasured or reassured by my breast so I raised myself to an easier and more upright position over his body. It was time for the thumb.

 

Adding the thumb is really what creates the fist – as the thumb knuckle seeks to join the rest of the knuckles inside the warm core of the anus the hand is at its widest. Very often the sphincter just cannot, or will not, relax and open enough to allow in the full fist. I’ve reached this point with a few clients but they just are not relaxed enough for the final surrender. 

 

Today as I curled in my thumb to nestle inside the rest of my hand the sphincter just opened, like a door on Star Trek! I’ve experienced this happening before, but only with the aid of poppers. I knew my client didn’t have poppers and yet, here was his arse opening on demand for my full fist – amazing! I went in.

 

I don’t have particularly small or delicate hands so to feel my full fist moving with ease into an arse is an incredibly exhilarating experience. It is just magical to feel the usually tightly closed muscles in the anus drawing you in. Today my client’s anus felt as greedy and demanding as my cunt often does, pulsating and throbbing, hot as it drew me in deeper – if my cunt feels as good as this anus did no wonder men love to fuck me so much! 

 

My fist filled all of him, I moved very little. Contrary to what I imagine you see in porn (I haven’t looked) I don’t move a fist rapidly in and out of an anus – definitely not in the first 5 minutes, definitely not on a first “visit” and probably not ever much at all. Fucking with a fist risks damaging the fragile skin and muscles of the anus and is completely unnecessary for a super deep, fulfilling and energy activating experience. So I didn’t fuck my client with my fist, I held his energy with mine as he pushed back onto my hand. 

 

He ground his body slowly, moving his anus around my hand gently encouraging his anus to open more and receive deeper and deeper in a way that felt totally safe and pleasurable to him. The energy that it activated was incredible. Any kind of prostate massage will activate deep energies, a fist activates on a whole new level! 

 

I felt his energy surging up my right arm. On a few occasions I had to moan to release the pressure of energy in my body – the feedback from receiver to giver is, in his words, mind blowing – again, no wonder men love to fuck a truly alive, activated and orgasmic woman – it feels like nothing else on earth. 

 

The energy was swirling between our bodies, my fist stayed inside him for a fairly long time – a good 5 minutes – just experiencing the warmth, the wetness and the throbbing pulse of his anus. The only movement I made inside him was to turn gentle circles to connect different parts of my fingers with different parts of his internal muscles. As you turn a fist around you also ask the sphincter muscle to relax, open and surrender to you in different ways, which his truly did.

 

When I sensed that he had had enough I removed my hand gently, holding it over his arse with just one finger lying inside the arse crack. Breathing gently, giving him time to integrate the experience and feel the feeling of emptiness and loss without feeling completely abandoned. 

 

Withdrawal is as crucial as entry. No-one wants to be left floundering, rejected and abandoned. The finger, fist or cock may have left the anus or vagina but the person still wants to be held, to feel loved, to maintain that connection as they assimilate to life on their own again. 

 

Only when I felt he was ready for me to do so did I lift my hand away from him and move to sit astride his bum to ride him, grinding my pubic mound into him, connecting the lips of my cunt with his delicious energy as I removed my glove and wiped away all traces of lube from my hand. 

 

In this way I “fucked” him with my energy and he “fucked” me right back. Penetrating each other deeply, moving energy back and forth until I couldn’t absorb any more and I came, squirting all over his arse. He’d have felt it trickling down his arse crack, over his perineum and balls, the shaft and tip of his cock which was getting harder and harder underneath all of this action.

 

My “on piste” massages don’t get derailed between me asking my client to roll over onto his back and his ejaculation at the end of a 20 minute lingam massage. A tantric massage shouldn’t become a full sex session, partly because as a professional it is important that I honour our agreed boundaries at the beginning of the session, and, as, importantly because when a man receives a full 90 minute tantric massage he is relaxing into receiving – into his yin energy – often for the first time in his life. 

 

God’s patriarchal model of sex requires men to perform and “give” to compliant, uncomplaining, often un-pleasured and submissive women. For 1,000s of years men have had to, literally, rise to the occasion, take command and impose themselves on (and in) women. It’s thus a deeply powerful and reconnecting experience for a man to receive the complete opposite. To lie in almost total stillness, do nothing and yet feel so much. It reconnects them to something buried deep in their psyche, way beyond their conscious reach: joy, peace, calm, orgasm, expansion, safety, realignment, contentment, self-love & compassion, belonging, tenderness, ease. 

 

Men are deeply conditioned by society to want to fuck, but when, for whatever reason, they make their way to my door and I give them one of my versions of a tantric massage – highly sensual, erotic, but always focused on expanding the experience of energy within the body – they always have a completely mind blowing experience. 

 

The orgasm they feel with me literally blows away all the bullshit conditioning that our beautiful men’s minds have been programmed with. Proving to me, day after day, that male sexuality is as highly conditioned as female sexuality and that patriarchal sex does not serve them much better than it serves women. Quelle suprise!

 

Remember it was God who limited sex to penis-in-vagina-in-the-missionary-position model of sex. Prior to his edicts, Goddess had only desired humans to enjoy lots and lots of sexual pleasure devoted to Her in worship. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore the moment a cock enters my cunt and I feel her wrapping herself around his warmth, but I can’t imagine my sex life being limited to that any more. Not one of my clients has a proper orgasm through fucking me. Some ejaculate this way and we always have a jolly good time, but they don’t experience the immensity of a full bodied, “mind blowing” orgasm by doing lots of frantic fucking. 

 

No, the mind blowing orgasms occur when my client is deeply relaxed, lying on his back, eyes closed, receiving a lingam massage. With legs wide apart wrapped around me –  seated, cross legged, feet underneath his bum – music pulling him deeper and deeper into his body, connecting to sensation within, using breath to maintain this highly relaxed, surrendered state as I massage his lingam for an extended period of time. This is the way to build a full bodied orgasm and the orgasms I have witnessed men experiencing in this way, on my bed, have been absolutely incredible. 

 

An integral part of a traditional lingam massage (as taught by Michaela Riedl in “Lingam Massage”)  is for the practitioner to move energy from the lingam up to the heart chakra using our hands. We do this to reconnect a man’s sexual energy to his heart energy. One of the many disconnects in the patriarchal model of male sexuality is this sexual centre-heart centre disconnect which leaves men disconnected from their true “Lover” energy, sometimes for an entire lifetime. I believe it is one of the ways in which men are at war with themselves. 

 

As humans we ALL have a fundamental need to feel loved. Sex is a powerful means to feel this love – love for self, love for another, love for community, love for the planet, Divine Love – whichever, through sex we can connect with love. Unless you have been told that men have a biological, physical need to fuck and women alone seek love from the experience. ARGH!!! What total and utter rubbish!

 

This woman can tell you that I and many, many, many other women deeply crave carnal, physical pleasure from sex and every single one of my male clients (100s, if not 1,000s now) all desire to feel loved. Yet the patriarchal model literally programmes them into taking love out of sex. 

 

The loving hands of a whore, or any informed partner, can reconnect a man’s sexual energy (located in this root chakra – his prostate and perineum) and move it physically, using our hands, to his heart chakra (located in the centre of the chest), so reconnecting sex with love and integrating the body into a magnificent WHOLE human being.

 

Another of the beautiful gifts that a lingam massage gives a man (and one way in which it differs from a quick wank to conclude a massage with a “happy ending”) is the comfort and ease the practitioner has with his soft cock. Soft cocks is the subject for a blog post of their own, but here I will just mention that when I move my hands from a lingam to dispense energy throughout the rest of his body, the lingam will, unsurprisingly, soften as the energy moves from his lingam up into his torso, down his arms and into his legs and feet. 

 

This is exactly what I want and if I have succeeded in relaxing my client enough so that he is fully in the zone and connected to sensation (energy) in his entire body he’ll barely notice that his cock has softened, and if he does, he no longer cares! 

 

The bonus, as I see it, is that I can afford to use hotter strokes. On the 0-10 scale a soft cock has further to go than a hard one, so I can afford to increase the pleasure more when he is slightly soft. Remember, I don’t want to wank him off and make him come. I want to activate, expand and move his energy giving his lingam as much delicious pleasure as I can until his whole body shakes with orgasm.

 

Today my client orgasmed bang on 20 minutes with a roar of enormous power –  it came from deep within and sounded both incredibly animalistic but also very Divine Masculine. Then he lay in stillness. I always give my clients a good amount of time to integrate the experience, to bathe in the afterglow of orgasm, lying still, being held physically and energetically by me. 

 

I cup the softening cock in my hands, allowing it to rest in my “vagina replica” hands as the energy dissipates. If I’m lucky enough to have received his ejaculate on my breasts I will use one or two of my hands (when he feels ready for me to disconnect) to rub the sperm into the skin of my breasts, smiling at how when I am buried my breasts will still have a magnificent youthful glow! And I wait for my client to open his eyes and re-enter the room.

 

As you already know, today he did so with the exclamation, “WOW!!” followed by the words, “That was mindblowing!” I smiled and said I was pleased and that it was my great pleasure to have been able to give him a “mindblowing” experience. He didn’t seem to want to talk and whilst I was curious to know how he had experienced the anal fisting, I honoured the fact that if he wanted to share he would, that it wasn’t for me to pry. So I offered him a shower and led him down the corridor to the bathroom. 

 

I returned to the bedroom to do what I always do – turn down the music, strip the bed, cover the mattress with a pretty sarong, clean and refill my little oil bottle, clean the lube bottle and tidy it all away. My energy shifts as I do all this, I can feel my cunt returning to closed (probably a gentle simmering 2 or 3 on my scale). When my client comes back from his shower I am more friendly teacher/coach than sexual partner, the boundaries of normal life have been re-erected.

 

And, very often, this is when the talk happens. Maybe it’s because there’s been time to reflect in the shower? Maybe it’s because they still feel different despite the break away from me and the energy of the room? I don’t know why, but very, very often my clients want to talk about what they have just experienced, to try and understand it, to put a lived experience into words before it fades from their memory.

 

Today my client smiled broadly and said with some amazement, “It’s incredible, I don’t feel dirty.” This is my deepest desire as a whore – for my clients to leave feeling amazing, restored, healed, connected, joy-filled, lighter, happier, seen, understood, loved, energised, never, ever “dirty” or regretful in any way (another reason for firm boundaries). Sex is NOT dirty. Our society has made it so by pushing it into the shadows. 

 

If you visit a whore in her temple of course you will feel differently afterwards compared with how you would feel if you spent time rolling around with a prostitute in the gutter! Sex with a proper whore will never, ever feel dirty because she sets the intent for the session to be all about love and reconnection to The Divine, neither of which are “dirty”. Sex can be sacred and it feels so much better when it is.

 

He also reported that he hadn’t crashed, that on the contrary he still felt amazing –  “Normally when I come I have a deep crash straight afterwards.” 

 

That, my dears, is the difference between ejaculation and orgasm. 

 

A full bodied, carefully developed, expanded and managed experience in a relaxed body feels amazing for an extended period of time. Ejaculation, most often forced out of the body using tension, feels exhausting. Tension is exhausting. 

 

Limiting male sexual pleasure to ejaculation and robbing men of their full orgasmic experience is one many crimes committed by patriarchy against men. Yes, my client ejaculated, but only after I had consciously and carefully moved energy around and through his body. I had observed his orgasm building in his body, I had seen him orgasm (shudder with energy) more than once before he actually ejaculated. 

 

Orgasm is an energy experience. Ejaculation is a physical experience. They can be combined, very often they are not, and they should no longer be confused as being the same thing.

 

We finally talked about the fisting and the amazing way in which his body opened so quickly and easily to receive my full fist. “It was as if you were taking poppers but I know you didn’t have any on you” I remarked, adding, “It was an amazing experience to be so deep within you, to feel myself a part of you.”

 

He replied, “I opened easily because I was so much more relaxed than I thought I would be. I felt safe. The meditation, your words telling me that I was safe, worked. I felt completely safe with you.”

 

As I showed him out of the door I smiled deeply, it had been a good session. 

 

I was a very, very satisfied whore. 

I Lost All Touch & Sexual Intimacy in my Life – This Powerful Practice Brought it Back

 

“I really needed that!” he said, collapsing on top of me. The condom had done what condoms do and killed his erection; I moved my hand down his chest to remove it and let it drop over the side of the bed – I would tidy it away later.

 

“That is the first time I have felt a woman’s touch, let alone been inside her, for…..” he counted quietly in his head, “6 years.” I held him close, kissed him deeply, and allowed the lips of my labia to wrap around his softening cock. His pain was palpable.

 

It’s been a long time since I was in his shoes. For me it was the years filled with babies and young children when my then husband and I were both too exhausted to think about, let alone do, sex. I remember only too well what the lack of touch did to me. 

 

The feelings of aloneness, the emptiness, the way days lost their sparkle, how everything got just a little bit heavier, how my smile became a thing of the past. I remember how days became months, became years and then I found myself in a GP’s surgery being prescribed anti-depressants to stop me from killing myself. 

 

Lack of physical touch has a catastrophic effect on us. We are hardwired for touch. As a species we need touch and lots of it to remain healthy – mentally, emotionally, spiritually and yes, even physically. 

 

I now look back on my conversation with the GP with a whore’s wry smile, very much tinged with sadness. She was a very sweet, well meaning young woman who messaged reception to tell them she would need more time as soon as she looked at my “Depression Score” questionnaire. For the NHS she was very generous with her time which she used to insist that I get counselling as a condition for being  prescribed antidepressants. 

 

Counselling – talk therapy. 

 

Talk was better than nothing. But what I really, really, really needed was touch. 

 

Like my client today needed touch. 

 

Lack of touch has resulted in him also being prescribed antidepressants – another win for big pharma but a loss for him – they affect the strength of his erection which is never positive for a man. And here he was collapsed, buzzing with happiness and aliveness in my arms, his whole body vibrating with the pleasure of feeling a woman underneath him and wrapped around him. 

 

I made as much use as I could of every part of my body, my mouth pulled his into long deep kisses, my pelvis pushed up against him, my arms moved across his back and over his head, my thighs held him close, my feet stroked his legs and buttocks. I wanted to touch all of him with all of me. I wanted him to feel completely held and loved and showered with touch.

 

Touch is magical and it did its magic. The energy within our bodies criss-crossed between us, my turn on feeding his turn on which in turn fed mine. 

 

I had yet to feel his cock in my mouth and I deeply desired to. Earlier he had feasted on my cunt so hard and greedily I had been taken aback, his desire to be buried nose deep inside me had forced me back onto the pillow in deep surrender. Rarely has oral sex felt so penetrating! 

 

I wanted to feel his lips, his tongue, his stubble on me, and in me, again, but I wanted it with his cock pushing into my throat, deeper and deeper and deeper.

 

The session had begun with a meditation and massage as all my Musubi/Kama sessions do – very calm, deeply loving, an invitation to relax and receive. His sensitive body, so long deprived of physical contact with another human, had quivered in response to my first touch – the gentle laying of my palms, oil free, on his sacral and heart chakras at the start of the massage. By the time I was massaging the small of his back and his buttocks with my oily pubic mound the energy between us was intense. 

 

He is a very, very sexy man, a powerful lover who is intense in giving and receiving touch. I think it’s criminal that this beautiful man has been on the “no sex” shelf since the birth of his child – 15 years ago – with absolutely no touch for 6 years! 

 

I think it was criminal that I was on a similar shelf, also for about 6 years with no touch.

 

I know that he and I are far from alone. 

 

So, so, so many of my clients tell me that sex was great until the birth of their children since when they barely have any sex and little more touch. Men and women seem to lose the ability to connect with each other with touch once children are in the home. 

 

Women turn to the bottle of cold white that is always ready, waiting in the fridge and men turn to readily available porn or professionals.  

 

What happens in our relationships? 

 

They start out so sexy and full of excitement, we can’t keep our hands off each other, and can’t imagine a day when the magic might die, then one day we end up in the GP’s surgery being prescribed anti-depressants because our beloved can no longer be persuaded to touch us, no matter how hard we beg?! 

 

What is going on??

 

Life is stressful, I get that, and children as wonderful as they are, undoubtedly increase the stress load. But surely when life is stressful you would turn to your partner for comfort and nourishment? 

 

Why do we respond to stress by not leaning into each other but by pulling away from each other? That seems like a crazy act of self harm, but we all do it.

 

Why?

 

Here’s a novel idea for you. I will share some theory first and then a practical experience.

 

Under patriarchy, the sexy, caring feminine has been split in two. 

 

On the one hand we have the sexually available woman – the “whore” – represented by Mary Magdalene. 

 

On the other hand we have the virginal mother represented by The Virgin Mary. 

 

Whether you are a biological mother or not I believe that, in the West, you carry within you what I and others call the “Mother/Whore Split”. 

 

Furthermore, I believe we have projected onto us, by our men and wider society, a deeply held belief that women are either “Whores” (exciting, sexy, intoxicating, beautiful, dangerous, scorned, excluded members of the community) OR “Mothers” (loving, giving, nourishing, kind, upstanding, responsible, comfortable, included members of the community). Never both.

 

Men want to fuck the former and marry the latter.

 

I need to stress that this is a societal construct, i.e. a belief that is encultured into us from birth, for lifetime after lifetime. I do not believe this split is in any way “natural” and that it has only become to feel “normal” because so many of us carry this as a belief within us. 

 

For most of us the “Mother/Whore Split” is buried deep within our subconscious, i.e. below the level of conscious knowing. 

 

I probably wouldn’t be aware of mine had I not met the “Crazy Lady” in the village who invited me on a spiritual training course she was delivering. The course changed my life, no doubt about it, and the most powerful practice was the one in which I healed my “Mother/Whore Split.”

 

“Crazy Lady” explained how in our nervous systems we split off parts of ourselves that hold incompatible beliefs, creating different voices, even personalities, within us. This all happens within our subconscious and goes a long way towards explaining why you fail to get the things you desire most in life – a part of you is working against your goals or desires without you consciously knowing or understanding what is going on.

 

“Parts Integration” is a powerful tool to bring the differing parts together to help you move forward in life in one clear direction and we were going to learn how to do it. 

 

We were asked to think of a problem that was deeply affecting us in our lives. Where others chose things like “difficult boss” or “not enough money,”  I was quick to identify “lack of sex or any kind of touch in my marriage” as my number 1, most pressing problem, the one that, if I could solve, would make my life inordinately better. 

 

I had married a man, who when I was younger had had incredible sex with. We both had high sex drives and enjoyed a lot of truly beautiful times together. But conceiving children had completely destroyed our sex. 

 

Whilst pregnant I was hornier than ever (not uncommon apparently) I would have fucked anyone, but I was in a monogamous marriage and I had vowed, in a church, to be faithful to my husband. If he didn’t want sex with me then I had to accept I didn’t have sex. 

 

At first I thought my ballooning body was the problem, but even after the birth of our children our sex life never returned to what it had been before I had conceived. 

 

Because I wanted sex so badly I figured the problem was him. But I was on a training course that repeatedly reminded us that the only person you can change is yourself, so I was the problem that I took into the practice. 

 

I had never heard of the “Mother/Whore Split” before the practice. My fellow trainee (the coach) asked me to identify two opposing voices in me that had differing opinions on my presenting problem: “lack of sex or any kind of touch in my marriage.”

 

It was quite easy to identify sexually frustrated me – a woman who missed sexual intimacy with the man she loved, who missed the blissful joy of orgasm, who missed the sexy man she had married – the way he used to look at her, hold her and fuck her. This woman was sexually lascivious and as my coach asked me to connect with her and describe her words like slut, greedy, exciting, fun, happy, sexy, orgasmic and powerful flowed out of me. 

 

This part of me (the “Whore”) flicked her hair back, looked you straight in the eye, wore push up bras & thongs, and swayed her hips as she walked past you. She was young, free and single and oozed sex appeal.

 

The other me was quite dowdy by comparison. She was tired, responsible, kind, caring, constantly on the go meeting other people’s expectations and needs. She was the new me – wearing granny knickers from M&S, leggings, DMs, long flowing tops in muted colours, her uncut, uncoloured hair was pulled back into a pony tail. She wore lip salve instead of lipstick and smiled less, which saddened me. She was short tempered and very managing – she had a lot to manage. 

 

My “Mother” part, it turned out, was slightly sneering towards sex, “Who has time for that?” she would say.

 

The reason why coaching is such a powerful process is because the coach asks layer after layer of questions which brings up to the surface long buried beliefs, locked deep in the subconscious that you are completely unaware of. 

 

I found it remarkable that I had within me a part that was so sneering towards sex. I was desperate for sex! And yet I clearly had a part in my own nervous system that was pushing it away?!

 

No wonder my husband steered clear of me – who knew which “me” he was going to get?!

 

Having identified these two parts within me, I was then invited to bring the Whore part onto one palm and my Mother part onto the other. Please picture the scene, I was sitting on a straight backed chair, both feet on the floor, holding my arms out in front of me, shoulder width apart, palms facing upwards with the Whore on one palm, the Mother on the other.

 

For a while they both just sat there. Eyes closed, I was coached to connect with the feeling of each of them in my body, and then the essence of each of them sitting separately on my separated palms. 

 

Then, very slowly, I was guided to draw my palms together, to integrate the two separate parts into one integrated whole. All the time my coach was talking very, very quietly encouraging my hands to join so that my separate, un-aligned parts would integrate. 

 

Most people ask at this point, did it work?

 

Well I think you can answer that for yourself!

 

I am both an active mother and an active whore.

 

Allowing space for my Whore to be fully expressed has enabled me to be the Mother I wanted to be. 

 

I wanted to earn well so that I could provide my children with a good life and I wanted to be present for them. I wanted to be at the school gates when they finished school, I wanted to cook them evening meals, help them with their homework and get them to after school clubs. 

 

You can’t do all this if you join the corporate treadmill and work hours that suit an employer but not a family. 

 

And of course, I wanted lots and lots of beautiful sexual experiences.

 

Within months of doing this practice I had met The Boyfriend, a year later I met The Lover, was actively polyamorous and well on my way to becoming a professional whore. I have done hours and hours of spiritual training, for me this half hour practice is probably the one that changed my life the most.

 

Initially I thought the “Mother/Whore Split” was a uniquely “me” thing. Then I started noticing other people talking and writing about it and I realised that this is a societal thing, not a “me” thing.

 

Listen to women talking about sex and/or their husbands. It is incredible how quickly the excitement of the honeymoon period where the Whore is pre-eminent gives way to the sneering Mother who is “too busy for that sort of nonsense.” Much to their husband’s dismay, and I would argue, to their own physical, emotional and spiritual cost. 

 

Of course, there is much more going on for these women in their relationships and their lives which plays a role in their declining sexual interest in their men (not least your pants on the bedroom floor guys!!) but I have personal experience of the incredible power of integrating these two common personalities within one’s own nervous system.

 

And, of course, this split isn’t restricted to women. If you are a woman reading this, look for it within yourself. If you are a man reading these words, do the same. Examine your own beliefs around women and sexuality. 

 

Maybe begin with a provoking question like, “How do you feel about whores? Do you see them as exciting and enticing women and/or do you judge them as fallen women, victims of circumstance to be pitied and shamed?”

 

Go on to ask yourself, “Would you marry a whore?”

 

“How would you feel if your wife told you she wanted to leave her boring, badly paid 9 to 5 to set herself up as a whore?”

 

I have lost count of the number of times a man has told me that he once had incredible sex with a certain woman, but he didn’t marry her. In answer to my question, “Why not?” I am told something along the lines of, “She wasn’t the right kind of girl to marry, d’you know what I mean?” 

 

That there is the “Mother/Whore Split” in men! And it is really common.

 

I believe that many, many men carry the “Mother/Whore Split” within them. I hear it when they are slut shaming a woman for being openly sexual – they both desire the slut and judge her because “good” women i.e. “Mothers” are non-sexual, or at most only passively sexual.

 

Where this split in men takes on a whole new flavour is when they’ve paid to enjoy the Whore but found themselves nuzzling into the Mother. 

 

As someone who has integrated Mother and Whore within my nervous system I am, like the temple priestesses before me, able to be both incredibly sexual with my clients and give them tender, motherly love during my sessions. I even theorise that the reason why men crave to feel their cocks inside a woman so badly is because, at some level, a part of them wants to return to the safety and unconditional love of the womb. 

 

An integrated lover can give a man this. She can entice, beguile, arouse, seduce, excite and also care, nourish, comfort and love him.

 

If I were to set up a school for whores or a whore certification course (I think both are illegal in the UK) the first thing I would have every one of my trainees do is integrate their “Mother” and “Whore” parts.

 

A sexually integrated woman is far more certain and confident in her sexuality, in her body and in her life. How could you do this work if a part of you were judging you, sneering at you and shaming you for doing it? It would create a chaotic energy for both client and whore. 

 

The role of the whore is to heal, initiate and guide people from one broken, dysfunctional model of sex to another, kinder, more holistic, even sacred, model. Whores can’t heal in others what they haven’t healed in themselves. Modern day whores are only a fraction as powerful as the women who worked in the Temple of Horus but we have to start somewhere. 

 

For me the place to start is with integrating the Mother/Whore Split, I guess because that is where I started?

 

Before he left, I got what I wanted from my very sexy client – we spent quite a while with me on top of him in my favourite position – 69. By gripping the base of his cock with a circle of index finger and thumb I could hold his turn-on in the top two thirds of his shaft so my throat had to open wider and wider to take what felt like a very strong erection. At the other end he was feasting on me as powerfully as he had earlier – my body was singing with orgasm. 

 

When I couldn’t take any more and thought I needed a break, I rolled off him slightly, but then found that lying, heads on each other’s thighs was an even better position to pleasure each other. Thrusting our pelvises slightly we could fuck each other’s mouths. I felt like the cat that had got the cream!

 

Like I do almost every day, I deeply appreciated and celebrated my life and adventures as a whore. It is inconceivable to me now that I would do a “normal” job and not get to connect with such beautiful people in this beautiful way and make really good money by doing so!

 

At the end he showered, paid me and left. I showered, threw the used condom in the bin, went downstairs and spent the afternoon sitting in the garden writing this – until the kids all drifted home and we had a delicious family supper together as the heat of the day died down. At the end of the night I curled up in bed beside my delicious husband and, before we drifted into sleep, had more sex 🙂 

 

An integrated life is very, very, very good.

Becoming Anabelle Part II – Tinkerbell

 

[This post is best read after Black Pants Man though I have tried to write it as a stand alone post] 

 

The Boyfriend wasn’t at all happy with my new hobby which is all that it was at this point – consciously anyway. We had been together for a year and the early heady days had given way to DIY on his rundown cottage and Sunday hockey matches. I had done marriage. I was through with mundanity, I had reached the point in my life where I realised I only had one life and that it was crucial for me to live my life well – which meant on my terms. 

 

If I wanted to put my sexual needs on ice, play house with a husband and come last after the children I had that back home. I did not need to leave my precious children and drive two hours to get it. I wasn’t joining The Boyfriend in his dilapidated cowshed (aka “good investment”) to be a patient and loyal “wifeling”. 

 

I was driving around the M25 for SEX. Lots of it. 

 

All-weekend-in-bed-stopping-only-to-refuel kind of SEX. 

 

But hockey and doing up his investment hovel were important to him, so it was made plain, by him and his family, that I needed to find myself an all consuming hobby to distract me from my insatiable need for SEX. He was very bemused and not at all happy when my all consuming hobby turned out to be, not a healthy sport or creative craft, but what I really, really wanted – SEX!!

 

Obviously being the very honest person that I am, I talked it all through with him. We spent hours and hours discussing it, he bought me books to explain to me what I am – polyamorous apparently. The books backfired, as did the Facebook Community he found for me. I dived in headlong like a parched traveller who’s come across an oasis in the desert. Try telling that thirsty traveller that they have to stop drinking – the brain literally does not compute.

 

Plus, I had met The Lover. 

 

Learning that there was a term for ethical (i.e. honest) non-monogamy – polyamorous and that I was that term – made me feel truly liberated. I’d known in my bones that monogamy was BS and my marriage had proved it – two lovely, funny, sexy, highly sexed people killing each other with boredom. Humans are genetically almost identical to bonobo chimpanzees (1.3% genetic difference) and bonobos are all having sex the whole time. 

 

I had just learned that I was a hairless bonobo and The Lover loved it!

 

The Lover and I had met in the 24 hour period during which my skeletal profile was up on an NSA site. Simply stating my situation, with no pictures uploaded, it simply said, “I’m married, have a boyfriend but need more sex. Can you help me out?” The Lover messaged me only hours before The Boyfriend succeeded in talking me into leaving the site. And his message was sexy-as-fuck. 

 

First off his profile picture was everything a woman wants to get her juices running – an arty black and white photograph of a woman’s back with a pair of male hands gliding down her spine – as if playing a double bass (surely the sexiest of all musical instruments?) His message was as delightfully charming; he said it would be an absolute pleasure to help me out of my predicament and he even used apostrophes correctly! 

 

We soon moved our conversation off the site and were sending each other photos. The tease was delicious. We had two of the sexiest weeks of my entire life before diaries permitted a meet and when we finally did spend a day together there was no way that one meet was going to be enough. He was FABULOUS. 

 

A seriously stunning cock, the kind that takes you aback when you first see it in the flesh, but more importantly he really knew how to use it. When he pulled out of my cunt to feel what it was like inside my arse he did so with so much grace and care that I felt I had never been so deeply loved and held  in my entire life. When we parted on that first, blissful, day and I rushed off to do school pick up, I knew that I was going to need a lot of sex with him to live my life to the fullest.

 

At this point The Boyfriend didn’t break up with me, he just wanted me to stop, to go back to being “normal”, back to being a safe, monogamous, sexy woman on his terms. Nothing stopped him breaking up with me, I didn’t lie to him, he knew everything, but he wanted the incredible sex. I’ll admit I was obsessed, I probably still am, and many people will declare that to be unhealthy, but all I can say, with my dandelion smile on my face, is that I am really, really happy – and healthy. 

 

Years later, after the painful breakup and very established in my role as Anabelle, I wonder why I tried so hard to convert such a narrow minded and conventional man to my way of thinking. It was very obvious to anyone who knew me quite intimately back then – The Lover, my confidant Jenny, one or two other girlfriends, that The Boyfriend was never going to embrace the life that I so deeply desired. Why did I cling on to him? Why did I try to win him over? 

 

I was in love. I loved him truly, madly and deeply. He was the man I wanted to grow old with. Just not yet! I wanted to grow old with a life well lived behind me. I wanted to create memories that would warm me in my final days. Most of all I wanted to die, Lilith style, with a wicked grin on my face. 

“No regrets” became my motto and my decision function machine. When faced with difficult life choices I started to ask myself the question, “On your death bed, which choice will you regret not making?” – the answer showed me the path that I must take, however unconventional, uncomfortable or inconvenient it may be. It is always the bolder, braver, less conventional path that gifts you the most opportunities for growth and expansion. As Vincent Van Gogh said,

 

“Normality is a paved road: it’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.”

 

I love flowers. Which is no doubt why one day I had the bright idea that The Boyfriend and I would have a threesome with a prostitute in an anonymous London hotel. 

 

Surely this would win him over to my side? 

 

What man does not dream of a threesome with two women? 

 

What man would not find a girlfriend who gifts him such incredible experiences, completely intoxicating and hold onto her as a rare and precious gift?

 

I had absolutely no idea how one finds a prostitute and I felt morally conflicted. A bit like buying teak garden furniture – you want to make the purchase, but how do you know that it’s ethical? Women don’t come with a Fair Trade stamp like my coffee does.

I found an agency online, baulked at the hourly rate, and perused the photographs. One or two appealed to me (their bodies made my nipples twitch and my cunt throb a bit) so I pinged their photos to The Boyfriend to ask his opinion. Happily he selected my favourite and I booked both the hotel and the lady. 

 

The whole thing cost me way more than a week’s earnings, but I was living life on my terms, this was a once in a lifetime experience, I was about to convert the man that I loved into the joys of ethical non-monogamy and we were going to make precious memories together. I was taking a step off the paved, expected, path of normality to spend time with my beloved enjoying the flowers. 

 

We were both as nervous as hell when the day arrived. We met her in the hotel bar and fell easily into small talk. Then, bless her, professional that she was, she asked, “Do you only want to talk or would you like a bit more fun?”

 

“Of course” we both replied in unison and led her up to our room. There she removed her dress, tied her long hair in a ponytail, removed a tube of lube from her bag and said, “I think we start with her, OK?” I wasn’t going to argue.

 

It was the first time I had ever kissed a girl, and I really liked it. She was exquisite, small boned, slim, delicate with incredibly soft skin. Kissing a woman after years of stubble was quite a sensation – I was hooked.

She was really fun with me, she guided me down The Boyfriend’s body to share his cock between our kisses. I wasn’t as mad about blow jobs back then, I did them more as a gift for the man rather than for my pleasure, but with her tongue and her lips so close to mine, teasing his shaft and glans between us, I enjoyed sucking cock as never before.

 

And his cock had never been as magnificent before.

 

Afterwards we named her Tinkerbell, she was fairy like in her appearance and playfully fairy like through the whole session. After sharing cock with me she invited me to lie on my back and sliding down my front to pleasure my cunt with her lips and tongue, she directed The Boyfriend to get a condom. That is how I ended up lying there watching The Boyfriend fucking Tinkerbell as she tongue fucked me.

 

And yes it was as amazing as it sounds. Those of you who watch porn are probably a bit blase about sex as I describe above, but for me, at the time, it was out-fucking-standing. I was delirious with delight as we took a short break half way through our two hour session.

 

It was incredibly relaxed. That was my overriding impression of sex with a professional. She was so relaxed about her body, the sex, us, our bodies. Knowledgeable, funny, sweet and above all, relaxed.

The Boyfriend asked what all men of his type ask when they meet someone new, “So do you enjoy your work?” I was embarrassed, I felt awkward. What if she had to lie? W”hat if we learned that we had just tasted non-ethical coffee? 

 

Tinkerbell just beamed, “I love it.”

 

Then she expanded a bit, “I earn really good money, I am saving up to open my own bar with my boyfriend. It’s good, you know.” Then, because this is England and we were making mid-sex small talk, she turned to me and asked, “What do you do?”

 

“I’m a teacher, I teach infants – aged 4 to 7 years.”

 

“Oh, how gorgeous! You must love it!” she exclaimed.

 

“Well, I do, but the money is terrible – it’s taken me a week’s wages to pay your two hour bill tonight!” She just beamed and nodded knowingly, she already knew this. Teaching, an apparently vital, “respectable” profession is just not as respected – in hard cash – anything like  her “disreputable” profession. 

 

She then turned to The Boyfriend and asked, “And you?” 

 

He replied with as much pomposity as I thought it was possible to muster, a pomposity that was completely incongruent with his naked body and softening cock, “I” he announced, “Am an accountant.” 

 

Her face fell and she just said, “Oh, poor you.”

 

It still makes me laugh out loud. I didn’t at the time, I stifled my giggles and marvelled at how she had readjusted her crown in the face of his middle class pomposity. I loved her so much for it. And envied her deeply. 

 

Here was a young woman doing something she clearly enjoyed, earning far more than the two of us combined, and completely owning the space. Young, beautiful, sassy, confident, kind, sexy – pretty dazzling to a middle aged woman set on reclaiming her life to live it on her terms.

 

Tinkerbell taught me the joy of kissing a woman. I learned the delights of a soft female body and soft female moans, of little teeth and small fingers pleasuring your flesh. She was the first woman I tasted, the first woman to taste me and I found both immensely liberating. 

 

She tasted sweet and maybe a bit spicy, definitely not fishy or pungent at all. Why are we told by countless bad taste jokes that women have “fishy fannies” when actually our cunts bear no resemblance to fish at all? I mourned the wasted years in which I’d denied myself the pleasure of receiving oral sex because I was sure I smelt ghastly and decided that I would be more like Tinkerbell. I would open my legs and gratefully receive any, and ALL, pleasure any giver wanted to lavish on my grateful cunt.

 

She also showed me a completely different face to prostitution to the one we are constantly peddled. 

 

Contrary to the mainstream narrative that there is no such thing as a happy and empowered prostitute, the first prostitute I had ever met was both. 

 

I will take your word for it, if you have personal experience otherwise, and I know there is a side to the sex industry that is dark and exploitative, but ALL slavery is exploitative, not just sex slavery. 

 

Selling sex does not necessarily make you unhappy and it can make you very, very happy and empowered. That is what Tinkerbell taught me. 

 

She was another nudge from the universe towards the creation of Anabelle. I think of her often and wonder what she would make of the shy, rather awkward woman she met over a decade ago. I hope she got to open her bar and that Covid didn’t destroy her dreams along with so many others’. 

 

There isn’t a school or a college you can go to to learn the art of being a whore. It is not something you can get certified into. Like much in life, the empowered route does require a certain amount of privilege. Tinkerbell was part of my route. If you had told me at the time that I was doing research for my future business, I would have laughed at you, but meeting her shifted my perceptions entirely and I could feel, in my body, that I wanted to be like her. 

 

I wanted the freedom, the sassiness, the sexual confidence. I wanted to make other people’s dreams come true. Above all I wanted my life to be devoted to pleasure and orgasm like hers was. She was younger and so much prettier than me, but I had a growing sense that I wanted to walk her path.  

 

 

Recommended Further Reading (which happen to be the books The Boyfriend bought me):

 

“Sex at Dawn: The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality” by Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jetha

 

“More than Two” by Franklin Veaux and Eve Rickert

Can tantra help with my sexual dysfunction

Connecting With The Heart Through a Prostate Massage

Yesterday was a Musubi massage, he orgasmed in perfect timing to the music playing in the room. I always use the same play list, in the same order, starting it 15 minutes before my client arrives so that as I move through the session, I am working with the same tunes that I know and love, for each distinct phase of my sessions. It appears that whilst I like variety in my men, I like familiarity in my music!

 

When you really know a piece of music you can predict the next note and your body moves both with the music and in anticipation of the music. I am sure dancers and singers feel this way – the music inhabits you and helps you transcend your limited, material, ego self to create a magical, ethereal experience for your client. Isn’t that what we all seek from live performance? A moment of pure magic when the performer seems “lost” in their performance? That’s how working with my playlist feels to me. I am transported by the music into a different realm from where I can reach out my hands and guide my clients to join me.

 

Oftentimes the music is timed perfectly for the moment I am in. I haven’t selected certain pieces for certain parts of the massage, rather the massage and I have grown with the playlist so that the music that most often accompanies a prostate massage is now completely perfect for the prostate massage. It’s a haunting piece with a beautiful voice that can feel deeply penetrating – and absolutely I time my penetration for that moment. I know when it’s coming and I know from my client’s body what is needed to prepare him for that moment of deep penetration, so I play with him, tease him, arouse him, soften him and reassure him as the music builds to THAT moment. 

 

Yesterday my client was lying on his front. He had just received an incredibly erotic and sensual body to body massage in which he had shown me how aroused he already was – you know, bum pushing up towards my body and grinding into my pelvic mound as I glided over him – it’s a dead give away! I’d completed my final slide down his back, making sure that my nipples were the very last parts of my body to touch his – over his buttocks, then down between his thighs, hopefully connecting briefly with his balls. I was sitting, oil in hand, ready for the next stage of the massage – the prostate – surveying his body, when I noticed that he was lying with both palms facing upwards either side of his buttocks.

 

I like this because it means that as part of my reassurance for deep penetration, I can rest one of my breasts in one of his palms (usually the left breast in the left palm, leaving the right hand free for the main job). Everyone likes to feel held, especially when they are experiencing something very vulnerable. Lying on their fronts, denied access to my eyes (I have good reason for this) I find ways for the rest of my body to provide the kind, loving reassurance that a body needs to relax, surrender and open. 

Prostate massage is many things. The prostate, or P spot, is the pleasure equivalent to the female G spot. It’s highly sensitive and a major erogenous zone. Obviously I don’t have personal embodied experience, but I have been told countless times that orgasm following a prostate massage is way more powerful than regular orgasm. You can massage the prostate internally using a finger or a toy or externally via the perineum. I always use my finger, craftily prepared in a thin, latex free glove whilst I am doing the hands free, body glide part of the back massage (clever huh?!)

 

A prostate massage is about pleasure, deep pleasure, but it’s also about healing and this is an important aspect to a whore – we are all about healing – healing the mind, body and soul through, and with, pleasure. This is one of the ways in which whores are different to prostitutes. A whore knows the healing power in her hands and body and uses both consciously, yes with pleasure, but always for healing.

 

A big part of the healing offered by a whore is opening up and re-connecting the heart to the rest of the body (especially the genitals) so that the client has a heart connected experience . It’s not uncommon for men (and women) to disconnect their heart (emotions and love) from their sexuality (their primal, life force energy) which leads to a distortion of sexuality for the individual, their partners and wider society. Sexual energy disconnected from love energy is obviously more prone to being predatory, toxic, exploitative and ultimately empty.

 

We ALL desire love. Our fundamental core needs as humans is to feel safe, to feel loved and to belong. Many of us spend a lifetime searching to be truly loved, believing that if/when we find the “right person” we will finally rest easy knowing that we are deeply and unconditionally loved. But here’s the shocking truth that will feel like a slap around the face if you are reading it for the first time – you can only receive love from another person to the same extent that you already have love for yourself. 

 

Of course we receive validation from others loving us which helps us to learn how to love ourselves and the wise among us use love from another to re-wire the neural pathways and belief systems to grow an internal love for ourselves, but ultimately love is an inside job. Another’s love for us can assist us on our journey to self love but can never, ever, replace self love.

 

Whores understand this. We are deeply loving humans who understand how love works and we use sex to help our clients reconnect to and open their hearts so that they feel and connect to the love that they have for themselves. 

 

We have a few tricks of the trade. One of which is the heart opening point in the palm of the hand. When you move your palm over your body or another’s, you are opening your heart to the experience. The recipient feels it. Whilst fingers feel lovely, if someone only uses fingers on your body it starts to feel irritating, your skin, your body, aches to feel the connection that only comes from the palm. I always massage the palm of my client’s hands at some point in the massage, usually whilst sitting astride him whilst he is lying face up so that we are connected gentital to genital. I will massage the hands, one at a time, activating the heart opening point in each, before placing his palms on my heart chakra in the centre of my chest, so that we share a heart and genital connected moment before I encourage him to move his hands over my breasts and the rest of my body if desired.

 

But on this occasion I saw his palms, facing upwards as he still lay facing downwards, as an invitation to do things a bit differently. My sense was that if I massaged his palms now, before the prostate massage, he would have a deeper, more heart connected experience. The music “allowed” me time to do so, so I moved my hands from his buttocks up his back, towards his shoulders and then down his arms, swirling around his palms at the ends.

 

I spent time with each palm, intertwining my fingers in his like an established couple on an afternoon stroll, keeping my palms connected with his, pressing them into his, consciously activating his heart opening point. I was aware that to do this my body was over his, my breasts were hanging down, caressing his back in a not discomforting way! That’s the joy of a tantric massage, you use every moment in the massage to connect, to tease, to arouse, to give, whilst also denying. It’s the perfect antidote to society’s smash and grab approach to the penis-centric sex model of sex. It’s slow and erotic and, at times, completely surprising.

 

Heart points duly opened, I returned to his anus. The music was building nicely to the powerful, penetrating moment. I squirted lube onto my fingers, sat astride his left leg, bent my body low over his and placed my index finger firmly but gently in the middle of his anal rose, at the entrance to his anus. I paused, waiting for his body to respond to my “knock on the door”, his sphincter muscle opened a fraction, I slid in that fraction and politely waited. Then as the music built to a crescendo and with his hand clasping my left breast, he relaxed and opened. My finger slid in with ease and I directed it straight to his prostate as the voice filled the room with deep, penetrating intensity. I held my finger still on that first spot for what was probably only a few seconds, but felt like a profound age, before I began to gently stroke his prostate. 

 

If I’m going to finger fuck an anus I do it at the end of the prostate massage, sometimes adding 1, 2, 3 more fingers as my client opens for me. Sometimes they pull their knees up underneath them, pulling their anus further apart for me, sometimes they push back onto my fingers so hard I fear my wrist might get damaged. But yesterday’s client was about gentle, quiet surrender- being held through a deeply vulnerable moment, with my body, my breath, my energy and every ounce of my conscious awareness. I held my client, penetrating him deeply, but so, so gently until I felt his anal muscles inviting me to leave.

 

As I removed my right hand I swiftly removed the glove and completed the prostate massage by running the side of my hand down between his buttocks ahead of mounting him so that the energy that had made its way from his root chakra (prostate) up my finger and through my body to my cunt could be returned to him. I very often “fuck” my clients at the end of a prostate massage. It’s their energy and I feel that it’s important to return it to them. Yesterday the flow of energy between his buttocks and my cunt was particularly intense, I could feel his energy penetrating deep inside my cunt making me squirt with pleasure. No cocks, no fingers, but deep mutual penetration of my cunt and his anus. That’s the power of activating sexual energy!

 

 

Leaning forward to say, “Roll over” into my clients’ ears I am never surprised to hear them say, “God I’m turned on!” Often they’ll roll over and despite all of the energy that has been activated and that we have already shared, his cock will still be soft, not post ejaculation soft (though it’s fine when it is), but just still soft because the energy has been activated elsewhere. It always makes me smile with secret knowing when I see that my client is still soft, because, contrary to mainstream belief, it is fully possible for a man to be highly aroused, even orgasmic, and not have a hard on. When you take the attention away from the penis (which is rare in the patriarchal model of sex) you find that there is a whole male body to arouse. It is very common for me to fuck a client’s anus quite hard – to my client’s deep pleasure – and for his cock to stay soft. 

 

Yesterday though, he was very erect. Too erect to give it too much stimulation too soon. A swift glide of my hands across the glands, down the shaft and around the balls told me he was a strong 7 or 8 and would move to a 9 quickly if I wasn’t careful. 

 

I wanted to be careful. I wanted to extend his ecstasy. I wanted to expand his sexual energy further and move it to more of his body. I wanted to make every single cell in his body sing in delight and vibrate with pleasure. I wanted him to feel the light headed giddiness of a full bodied, champagne bubble, firework orgasm.

 

My favourite position when I flip clients over is legs astride him, genital to genital “sharing” the erection (if he has one) cupping his cock between the lips of my engorged labia. I love to pretend the erection is mine, to look down and see this beautiful, pulsating, glossy cock smiling back at me, to take it in my hands and stroke it with pride in the way I imagine a man waking with a morning glory would. If the client isn’t “too” hard I can move my vulva up and down his shaft lubricating him with my juices. With his cock nestled between my cunt’s lips, I spent time massaging my client’s chest, swirling circles around each breast, moving my hands in figures of eight, fingering and tweaking his nipples to see how they responded all whilst grinding my hips so that his cock was gently pleasured by my cock. 

Chest massaged, I spent some time gliding up and down his body. Planting feathery kisses on his face, kissing him full on the mouth and then breathing tantalisingly over his glans as I did so.  I glided over this body like this, pressing my oily body into and along his to tease, arouse and activate until the music told me that it was time to prepare for the final stage of the session – the lingam massage. With one final, unhurried slide down the front of the body oil in hand I made my way to my seated position, cross legged, between his thighs, my feet slightly lifting his bum. 

 

As I took his cock in my hands, I closed my eyes and leaned into the music. If music is important for the rest of the massage, it’s absolutely essential for the lingam massage. I use it to vary my strokes, to alter the tempo, and to bring my whole body to this final, worshipful stage of the massage. It would be too easy to tune out at this stage and just “wank” a client off. But my clients choose me to be better and to do different. Quite a few have been wanked off by professionals and partners – they come to me to be transported. I am a whore, not a prostitute or a wife. I exist to initiate my men into a completely different experience of themselves. And, frankly, I need music, incense, my bed, candlelight – my intentional space – to do this.

 

There are books that outline some of the many strokes that you can give a lingam in this stage of the massage and I followed one (listed below) religiously in my early days of Anabelle. Now I just take the cock for a dance. I connect with the music, I connect with the flow of energy in the room (and beyond) and I move my hands up and down and around his shaft, flicking over his glans and frenulum, cupping and “sucking” his balls, rubbing the root and the perineum, stroking the anal rose and then swirling up his torso or down his legs to distribute the energy that I’m building.

 

I do time this section of my session. I like to play like this for 20 minutes, but other than having a quick look at the clock to double check, I’m generally able to feel the time and also, of course, I have my playlist. Yesterday the timing was perfect. I think I was so relaxed, so in tune with the music and he was so in tune with me that he came, shuddering in orgasm as the song reached its crescendo and then he lay there enjoying the after-waves as the music quietened to its eventual end. 

 

As his energy subsided from explosive fireworks and shuddering body to deep stillness I quietly rubbed his sperm onto my breasts. I love this moment, the peace, the afterglow, the feeling of oxytocin flowing through your body, and of course the delicious stickiness of sperm – always so much more appreciated by my breasts than in a sad, floppy condom wrapped in a tissue and thrown in the bin. 

 

“WOW!” Was his first word. 

Followed by, “No words!” I smiled in gratitude and knowing and we began to talk about the prostate massage. 

 

My question wouldn’t have been, “Are you OK?” (I could feel he was far better than “OK”!) or “Was that good for you?” (How could he say anything other than “Yes”?!) It would have been something more open ended and inviting of information, like, “What was your experience?” 

 

In response he said, “That was so deep – I mean really deep – I felt you were cradling my heart.”

 

BOOM!!!! The heart-sex connection!! My finger had been caressing his prostate and yet he had felt it in the centre of his chest. 

 

As he said these words my hand was resting, as it always does at the close of a lingam massage, on his lake of peace, his heart chakra, in the centre of his chest. 

 

Mission accomplished. 

 

A good result for a whore.

 

Recommended further reading:

 

“Lingam Massage: Awakening Male Sexual Energy” by Michaela Riedl

 

Can Tantra Help with my “Sexual Dysfunction”?

The Joy of Soft Cock is the title of one of my yet-to-be-written books. This is only a short blog post, but it is the essence of me and my work, so I am going to try and condense my thinking and experience to under 1,000 words. Here goes….

 

I think I am going to start, right at the beginning, with the story of my first encounter with a soft cock. I was in my early 40s, passionately in love with a man I saw for only two nights a fortnight. As you will know by now, I am a highly sexual woman, and for twelve nights out of fourteen I was having no sex – so those two nights had to really count! I was younger and much more naive back then, and I thought sex could not happen without an erection. I also, subconsciously at least, believed that it was my responsibility to arouse a man to make him erect. If he desired me (because of my behaviour and/or my looks) then he would get an erection, and if he didn’t get an erection, that meant he didn’t desire me (because of my behaviour and/or my looks).

 

On one of my precious nights with my delicious lover, we were rolling about in bed, kissing, stroking, my hand moved down to his groin to delight in his throbbing manhood and was met by limp flesh. I was horrified. I froze in panic. Honestly, the thoughts running through my head were not, “Poor love, he must be tired or stressed, or both” they were,

“SHIT, he’s gone off me!!!”

“Have I farted?”

“Did I make it obvious that I was bored by his rugby story?”

“OMG, have I got a spot on my nose????!!!!”

 

Then something quite magical happened –  maybe my current self visited my younger self and whispered some words of wisdom in her ears? I don’t know?  But with divine timing, something did, because lying there in his arms, my hand still touching his flaccid phallus, I suddenly knew that his lack of erection was nothing whatsoever to do with me or his lack of desire for me. I knew how much he loved me and how much he enjoyed sex with me – he had told me often enough. I didn’t ask him about it; I decided instead not to make any issue out of it at all. I just stroked it, kissed him and ground my pelvis against his body. We were going to have sex with or without an erection!

 

As I took control of my freaked-out nervous system I stepped into a power within me that I had not connected with before. Sex was something I could initiate, and I didn’t need the permission or presence of an erection to initiate it. As I felt this power, or knowing, spread through my body, his limp cock stopped feeling alien and a bit repulsive and started to feel velvety soft and erotic. I realised I could hold it all in one hand, manoeuvre it around and play with it, squishing it, like Play-Doh, between my fingers in a way that I never could when handling a rigid erection. It was so much fun!

 

As I relaxed, so did he. The kissing did its usual magic, and we moved into some of the most intimate, beautiful sex that I had ever had. A few months later, I was at a funeral (of all places) when a fellow guest confided that he missed sex with his wife, but since his prostate op, he wasn’t able to meet her needs. I leaned in and said quietly, “You still have fingers, try those!”

 

Men and women both fear a lack of erection, and this fear gets in the way of them in the bedroom. If you remove the fear, you are able to go on to have outstandingly incredible sex again.

Men fear they will be judged for lack of performance and be deemed less manly or attractive. Women fear that, any day now, they will lose their man’s love and desire and that this will show up in the bedroom as a soft cock.

 

If you sat in a group of men and women and honestly talked about erections and the importance of them, you would hear women responding to the male fear around performance by saying, “Honey, the only performance that matters in the bedroom is how many times you make me come, you have fingers and a tongue, don’t you?”  Likewise, the men would look at their women and say, “Sometimes I am tired or drunk or stressed (or even all three) and this impacts my ability to sustain an erection, but in no way does that reflect how I feel about you!”

 

Erections also do just get less strong as men age. But this isn’t matched by male desire for his (or other) women! To restrict sex to times when there is a strong erection in the room is like living in England and refusing to step outside when the sun isn’t shining. It’s maddeningly restrictive. England is glorious in all seasons, as are cocks!

 

Repeated stress around non-erection sadly gets compounded in some people. Sometimes it is a beloved who expresses irritation or impatience at the presence of a soft cock, thinking that their needs for love and intimacy now can’t be met. I would have been one of these women if I hadn’t been lucky enough to have a download of inspiration and wisdom in such perfect, divine timing. If you’re a woman reading this, please understand the power of your words, spoken and unspoken, to harm or heal your man’s erection.

 

Sometimes, probably even more often, it is an internal voice – the inner critic – that causes compounded stress. I had one wonderful, wonderful client who had managed, with the assistance of his inner critic, to give himself erectile dysfunction (ED) because he was so, so stressed about how his premature ejaculation (PE) was failing his wife. He showed up, wondering if I could fix his complex mix of ED and PE. I replied that I wasn’t going to promise to fix anything, but I could promise to introduce him to an approach to sexuality that would cast his “dysfunction” in a new light and could be a path to renewed sexual pleasure for both himself and his wife.

 

In sessions with me, he connected with his sexual energy inside his body, learning to expand and move it with breath and attention alone. He went on to develop a regular practice at home, both in bed and in the privacy of his own garden, in which he would have incredible orgasms without even touching himself. I’ll never forget the morning I woke to a message from him saying, “Anabelle, I had my first earth orgasm today! I was standing barefoot on the grass, feeling the warmth of the sun on my skin, doing the breathing and moving the energy and then boom – it just flooded through me! It was absolutely incredible!! I want to announce this to the whole world! Why isn’t everybody doing this?!”

 

Before I met him, I had been running with the theory that maybe a soft cock is a portal or invitation to connect with your sexual energy in a deeper way? Erections can be very demanding – they show up with much urgency and heat – they can be a bit more goal-oriented rather than experience-oriented. Soft cocks have none of this urgency; they make no demands. They appreciate being touched, stroked, licked, and sucked just as much as erect cocks do, but they don’t threaten to explode at any moment – you can take your time and feast on them!  Thus, my theory was, when you aren’t being pestered by an erection, sex slows down, giving time for all parties to truly connect with the energy inside of their bodies, expanding and moving it with breath into fuller, richer, deeper orgasmic experiences.

 

My fabulous client confirmed my theory, especially with his message about his earth orgasm! I will happily say it loud and clear: your soft cock is not a “sexual dysfunction”. It is an opportunity, or a calling, to experience far deeper, more connected, more loving, more intimate AND MORE ORGASMIC SEX!!

 

I can confidently say that whilst tantric philosophy and practices may not give you a strong and/or long-lasting erection, they will give you indescribably good sex!

Choosing the session to reignite your fire

Choosing the Session to Reignite Your Fire!

So you’ve found my site, you love my photos and the words I use to describe my approach to sex and the services I offer; you’re close to making contact but you’re confused or undecided about which service you want. Let me try to help.

 

Being uncertain about which service to try for a first booking is probably the question I am asked the most and, much as I hate to answer a question with a question, it does very much depend on what you are looking for. So close your eyes, feel into your body and ask yourself:  “What do I really want to experience?”

And/or, “What desires are currently unmet in my life which I’d like Anabelle to help me fulfil?”

 

Many people with busy, demanding lives want to lie back and receive. I know when I am not working this is what I most want! Others want to take control from the start and experience real pleasure and turn on from watching and playing with my pleasure and turn on. If you’re in the latter group, you will not get what you want from an Adonis, Ra or Apollo massage.

 

Adonis and Apollo are both classic tantric massages in which you receive touch from me, but not vice versa. During both, you will experience your sexual energy in an expanded way, but you will not experience my sexual energy – she stays under wraps when I give either an Adonis or Apollo massage. In a Ra massage, you are both blindfolded and restrained, so my energy is even further removed from your experience.

 

Musubi, my body to body massage, is a more interactive massage than Adonis, Apollo or Ra. I use my body to activate and move sexual energy around your body and admit to getting quite turned on in the process (you try grinding your pubic mound into someone’s sacrum without feeling turned on!)

 

Musubi is the massage to book if you want a sensual, erotic experience which gets hot and steamy but doesn’t become full penetrative sex. Adonis and Apollo are for people who want to connect with energy within their bodies and to be helped to play with it for an extended period of time. Musubi is for someone who wants to feel  and interact with another body.

 

Then Kama. Kama is my “girlfriend experience” – nuanced sex industry speak for full sex (including penetration). It is supposedly all the good parts of having a girlfriend without any of the bad parts! My answer to people when they ask what is included in Kama is again a bit annoying. I don’t guarantee anything nor do I have a ban on anything. Sex is an experience between two (or more) people: their bodies, energies, emotions, minds, souls. Every single sexual experience is a unique moment in time because we are constantly changing and thus are different every single day.

 

I think the difference between the authentic experience I offer and the forced or fake experience that leaves one feeling empty (both ball sack empty and soul empty) is that I never, ever fake anything – ever. If I were to, say,  list “anal” as one of my list of DOs but then not feel like it on a particular day – for whatever reason – I would still feel pressured to do it and would then have to fake my pleasure leading to an exploitative and empty experience for both of us. So instead I answer, that nothing is guaranteed but nothing is off the table. I am genuinely very, very sexual. I enjoy being pleasured and I am a rewarding lover, I will very happily go wherever the energy flows.

 

I have had the most amazing, incredible, beautiful, indescribable sex with hundreds of clients over the years. Every single session has been unique and I have pretty much experienced everything. The younger me would probably condemn me as a tart, the older me celebrates that my soul has seriously got to live this human experience! I mean why else incarnate into a highly sexual body?!

 

For a successful Kama session my client does need to arrive with a certain level of confidence, charm or assurance. Kama is not the session to book if you are shy, uncertain or know you lack confidence. During a straight Kama session I see myself as a blank canvas for my client to paint his (or her) picture on. Or, if you like, a musical instrument that he (or she) plays his (her) tune on. Skilled lovers play my body incredibly and have an amazing time. Unskilled clients make the mistake of undressing themselves, lying down and telling me to “Show me what you’ve got.” They receive a massage at a Kama rate – don’t be one of them!

 

If you crave sexual interaction with me (which I would if I wasn’t me!) but you lack the confidence, skills, experience or assurance to arrive and seduce me, I offer a Musubi/Kama session that is perfect for you. The session begins with Musubi massage and only after our bodies have relaxed and our energies have intertwined does it flow naturally into a more sexual session.

 

Almost all of my sessions are incredible. The only ones that have not been are either massages in which the client has not respected my boundaries and tried to have sex with me (and earned the kind of ticking off that shrivels erections) or a Kama session like the one described above when a client arrives and expects me to please him. That is just not the dynamic that leads to great sex. It may work in porn, but it doesn’t work in real life. Above all, I am a real woman who loves real sex. Please don’t book me to be your porn star –  I think AI will help you create her!

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