Almost always on weekend mornings in the year we have been together, Michael and I wake and roll toward each other, and soon we are groping and kissing and fingering and fucking and loving so deeply that we do not stop until an hour or two later when we are limp and exhausted and starving.
This morning begins no different, and he slips his fingers into my pussy, stirring me awake, as he often does to get me ready for him (Oh, he has such talented fingers). Then he fucks me and fucks me, as he often does, only this time when he kisses me, he kisses me deep, deeper than he has ever kissed me, his tongue filling my mouth so completely that it forces my jaw to stretch wide wide open. A submissive trigger, smooth brain, I am helpless opening and opening in my throat, and coming. Then he holds my head still and thrusts his tongue into my ear, and oh I am opening in my head, buzzing buzzing excited.
Then his fingers go back in my pussy, stirring me, swirling me, thrusting, banging rough, then a delicious pause before he starts swirling me again, and he keeps going for so long that my whole pussy seems to transform into different material, softening, dissolving, becoming liquid. It feels as if he can reach through that concentrated hot liquid to the very place my soul is connected to my body. As his fingers keep stirring and swirling inside me, I feel as if he is touching the essential core of me, creating an opening, and the universe is pouring into me as my body pours out, expanding, filling the room, and oh jesus fuck, it is achingly exquisite. I feel literally caught between heaven and earth, and I am hanging there astonished when …
An electric orgasm jolts me, then lifts me up on a wave. Michael stops and lies next to me, but somehow the orgasm doesn’t stop. I can still feel the wave of pleasure moving through me. I keep shaking with that pleasure, tremble through wave after wave. My body is animated, and my mind is riding the flow, there is nothing but pleasure, rolling waves, dancing waves and I can hear the sound of my own ragged breath and feel my Daddy beside me, holding me, and it isn’t going to stop. I feel his lips around my nipple and the waves increase and I think I might be coming again, I sound like I am coming, I am moving as if I am coming, but orgasm energy builds and recedes and this is just a play of energy through me. I am a harp being played by soundless music and it is wonderful and his hands are wonderful, and I know this is bliss and I am lucky …
When it finally subsides, I am stunned, how long was it? Ten minutes maybe? My mind turns itself back on, and I panic for a beat, what has happened to me, I don’t understand it. For a moment, I feel like something diabolical has been done to me. I start to flail with a feeling of panic. But sweet Daddy, he grabs my neck, holds me still, and calm pours back into me. And then I cry because it was so intense and I feel so rearranged and I am still confused. I feel so different inside my body, I feel he did this to me, he put something in me that possessed me, it is still there, I can feel it deep in my belly, running up through me like a shaft of foreign energy. No, not foreign. His energy.
It takes me a long while to pull myself together enough to get out of bed. I do not go far. I walk twenty feet into the living to sit on the couch in a daze. I am not entirely sure what just happened. Did chakras open? Did Kundalini arise? How did that happen? Ever since our Tantric explorations months earlier – and a class we took on “yoni” massage (a.k.a. pussy stirring) – Michael has been lavishing much patient time swirling his fingers in my vagina. And it has given me enormous pleasure and satisfaction. But nothing like this morning. I need to understand.
By the end of the day I am watching a Tantric DVD that I bought months earlier but never got around to watching. It’s called “Alchemy, Orgasm and Awakening,” and it’s a lecture in which two different teachers give their perspective on the Tantric approach to orgasm. One of the teachers is the famed Charles Muir, who I remember hearing is considered some kind of sexual magician able to bring any woman to ecstasy. And in this lecture, he talks briefly about men’s orgasms, and why they shouldn’t ejaculate too often. And then he starts talking about women’s orgasms. And here is what he says:
There is a difference between clitoral and vaginal orgasms, and it is good to have both, because erogenous zones need to be awakened. Finding the clitoris is nice, but the energetic access point to the female psyche is inside the vagina, in what is called the yoni nabi. It is also called the G-spot; I call it the sacred spot – and when it is massaged and stimulated and held consciously, and energy runs through and into it – then her second chakra and her sexual psyche awaken, and a mind body connection happens. There is vast consciousness in that chakra and it needs to be awakened by someone she can trust to hold her heart precious, someone who can touch her and open her …
I am nodding as I listen to this, I am in tears as I listen to this. Muir goes on to explain that a woman’s clitoral orgasms are a nice release, but vaginal orgasms are different:
… For her to open up to them, to give up control, is to plug into the universe, where wave after wave of bliss runs through her. And once a woman is awakened, usually as the result of some kind of sexual healing, she can plug into that energy effortlessly … That is the nature of the second chakra my sisters, and it is your job to bring it forth. And to break through your conditioning that nice girls don’t, that spiritual women don’t. You do. And bring god into bed with you.
The audience listening to Muir in the room applauds wildly at that, and I applaud, too, sitting there on the couch. That’s it! There it is, a vivid explanation of what happened to me this morning. And not just this morning, but over the past months I have been with Michael, and all the time he has spent, stirring his fingers inside me, opening me, often 20 or 30 minutes at a time, sometimes even an hour at a time. I have suspected all along, there is something so healing about it, some kind of physical/soul therapy, this reaching to the core of me, this unlocking me.
And just as Muir described, over these past months of pussy-stirring attention, I have felt a profound change within myself, my whole body has come to feel different to me, more alive to me, even more attractive to me. Certainly, my sexual response has heightened, I am able to orgasm more quickly and deeply than ever before. Maybe it is true my life source literally resides there inside the walls of my vagina, and my husband’s generous loving fingers have been awakening it, making me acutely aware of the connection between me and all of life.
And oh my God, when his fingers start swirling in me, my connection to him, to Michael, feels like this solid unbreakable rope of hot electrified love, like his hand is literally plugged into me and who I am, and his energy just flows into me. I am completely penetrated by him and his love for me, and taking it all in.
I am shocked that I am just now learning this at 50 years old. By most any standard I would be considered sexually experienced, sexually educated. I am no stranger to my G-spot, certain lovers have found it, and ingenious little swirling rabbit vibrators have found it. And I have often heard the words “G-spot” massage, and even “sacred spot massage.” But I don’t recall hearing why one should undertake prolonged caressing of it beyond a powerful orgasm. Yes, a G-spot orgasm is incredible, but to be touched there for sustained periods is clearly meaningful far beyond the orgasms. Nothing in my life, no physical activity, has ever been as life-changing as that one thing Michael does for me. I lie there, legs wide open, whole body self open, and I am changed. And oh, if he does it while I am face down across his lap, there is the added dimension of submission to him as well. Body and mind are both transformed at once.
I want to shout it from the rooftops so every woman will know what is possible. And so every man will learn the art of pussy-stirring.
Later, I will discover Charles Muir again on another Tantra DVD, recorded decades earlier, in which he provides a detailed instruction and demonstration of “sacred spot massage” on his then wife, Caroline. And as he reclines beside her and slides his fingers into her, he asks her, “Did I find it?”
She answers back to him, “You found me. That spot doesn’t feel like an ‘it,’ it feels like me.”
Exactly, exactly, oh exactly. That is how I have felt with Michael’s fingers inside me, like he found the real me. And I want to fall at his feet in helpless love for opening the gate and setting me free.