The Clitoral Truth: The Secret World at Your Fingertips (18 page)

I also experimented with stimulating different parts of my body. Nipple stimulation, sucking on my fingers. I also tried different dildos—a new experience for me. Betty prefers silicone dildos, but gave me a crystalline acrylic one to try. I quite liked a seven-inch lavender “lover.” She also showed me how to stimulate the G spot on the urethra sponge and helped me find different position to reach it.

Now I meditate and masturbate for forty-five minutes every day. I’ve been having loving orgasmic times with myself and I have never felt so loved. My orgasms are the best I’ve ever had. I never could have dreamed this would happen without a partner. It was so liberating.

ANNIE SPRINKLE’S SLUTS AND GODDESSES WORKSHOP

Isa is the forty-year-old mother of a seven-year-old son and a longtime women’s health activist. She is an herbalist, a registered nurse, and teaches health and sexuality classes for teens and adults. She took Annie Sprinkle’s “Sluts and Goddesses” workshop and found that it changed her concept of her sexuality in remarkable ways:

I knew who Annie Sprinkle was, and wanted to meet her, since I’d admired her work as a sex educator and as a performance artist so much. I received a flyer in the mail for a three-day workshop she was offering in upstate New York called “Sluts and Goddesses,” and I was intrigued. In the flyer, Annie spoke of sexuality as being a sacred aspect of our existence, and suggested that we would have the opportunity to expand our sexual energy through Tantric breathing techniques, exploring our sexual personas, and through intensive genital massage, learn to experience full-

body energy orgasms. I knew I wanted to go. I was just coming out of a long relationship in which I’d felt stifled sexually, and this was not the first time I’d experienced this in partnerships. For many years and with many partners I’d felt that it was not okay for me to express myself sexually as fully as I longed to do. I knew I wanted the experience of having sex that was intensely physical and deeply emotional—I just didn’t know how to get there. I also wanted to meet other women who were thinking about and exploring these issues, and who were brave enough to risk exploring and celebrating their sexuality openly. So I drove to upstate in my brother’s little MG convertible, giving a ride to another participant, an erotic dancer from the city whom I’d never met. We talked and laughed the whole ride, most of it in an amazing downpour that miraculously ended the moment we arrived at the workshop. We’d been told to bring our sexiest attire, vibrators and tube, jewelry and leather, or whatever else we found sexy. We set up camp on a plateau in the wooded hills, getting ready for we didn’t know what yet.

At the first meeting after Annie and her assistants introduced themselves, we formed a circle, and were invited to tell a story about our sexual history. Some women told very funny stories about the first time they kissed or had sex, some women shared wrenching stories of physical abuse or

sexual violence: all told stories that we could relate to, and it created an immediate feeling of close bonding and trust. Then we got up and danced together with our eyes closed, to rhythmic music that was deeply sensual and compelling. We danced for ages, on and on, many of us crying or laughing or shouting out, with a heightened awareness of ourselves and each other until we were exhausted. Then we lay down together with our eyes closed, enjoying the tremendous quiet of the early evening. When we got up, Annie told us to dress up in what ever kind of special attire we’d brought, and walk down to the pavilion where she would meet us. She wouldn’t tell us anything more except that we were in for a big surprise that night. So we giggled as we made our way back up through the wooded hills to our tents, filled with expectation, and dressed for the evening.

As the sun set we emerged from our tents and walked down the forest path to the pavilion where our meeting would take place. What a sight we must have been traipsing down the mossy path adorned in lacy bras and panties, silk slips, leather vests and straps, or totally naked. At the doorway Annie and her assistants greeted us by smudging fragrant burnt sage on our faces, sprinkling us with rosewater, and whispering sexy messages in our ears. The room had been

transformed into a virtual pleasure palace with bolts of dark velvet and satin draped from the ceiling and around the windows and doors. Incense was burning, candles were lit everywhere, and a drummer was playing intensely moving rhythms, creating a wondrously sensuous atmosphere. In fact, it was so seductive, I felt right away that I never wanted to leave. We were invited to sit in a circle, and the drummer began to play and chant songs and we all joined in. Then Annie opened her trunk and put a huge pile of “slut” attire of all sizes and styles in the middle of the circle: bras, bustiers, teddies, exquisite sequin dresses, slips, stockings, garter belts, dildo straps and dildos, whips, feather boas, and wigs. On the side of the room there were also tables with lots of makeup and jewelry. We were instructed to dress up, creating a slut personae, and asked to take a new name appropriate to our inner “slut.” We each had pictures of ourselves taken, which we put together into an amazing collage. Then, one by one, we danced for each other, tucking fake money into the dancer’s lingerie, cheering for and appreciating each dancer. I thought this was really extraordinary, because I’m sure if you had asked us, half of the women there would have sworn that they’d never do this, under any circumstances. But on that night, because of the permission we were given, we all did it. When I performed, I loved myself so much for being

so sexy and exhibitionist, and felt so full of joy at being able to reveal myself sexually in “public.” Most of the women in the group were heterosexual, and it was especially pleasing to watch them being turned on by women’s bodies.

Then we put the “slut” clothes away and Annie put out a huge pile of “goddess” attire of all sizes and styles: that were mostly more elegant versions of the slut outfits, and might have been worn by a Botticelli Venus, and handsome leatherwear that would have been appropriate for your basic dominant. We chose goddess names to fit our new personas, and had our pictures taken in our new outfits. Inspired by the dominatrixes, we began flirting and playfully whipping each other with scarves, ribbons, belts, and soft cat-o-nine-tails as we danced. This was a revelation to most of the women there who had always believed that S/M play was dangerous or sleazy, but now saw how harmless and titillating it could be. The music had changed from the pounding rhythms of the slut dancing to more ethereal cadences befitting goddesses, and we danced for each other, taking turns one at a time in the center of the circle. I felt so turned on, able finally to claim and exhibit my exuberant sexuality. Then and there I decided that I wanted to replicate this kind of workshop for other women. The next day we learned a variety of Tantric

ecstatic breathing techniques, including the “fire breath;’ which is designed to build sexual energy in the entire body to the point of explosion. This particular technique was enormously revelatory for me. While doing it, I discovered that orgasm is so much more than just what happens in my clitoris. We did this and other breathing techniques for a very long time, and it was intensely emotional.

After lunch we went to a high plateau in the woods and did exercises designed to maintain the energy from the breathing and increase our sensitivity toward each other. We were tired but it felt good to keep pushing to new emotional heights. In the evening we went back to the pavilion and found that it had been beautifully redecorated for us, with pillows and soft lighting and sensual music. We sat together in pairs, and Annie coached us through a series of Tantric partnering exercises. We breathed together, exchanged sensual touch, all the while gazing directly and deeply into each other’s eyes— a Tantric technique used to promote intimacy. Then Annie and her assistants brought in an opulent feast of soft ripe fruit, bowls of melted chocolate and whipped cream and set it down amongst us. While lying together we fed each other and started decorating each other’s bodies while we laughed and licked the sweetness off. We lay in an exhausted pile at

the end, sharing life stories and thoughts about the evening. Then we trooped over to an outdoor shower and washed each other off.

The next day we moved to a flower-filled deck in the sun to learn genital massage. First, we did some intensive breathing and full-body massage and then focused on the genitals. Annie showed us a series of specific strokes that she has given very descriptive names such as “around the neighborhood” for light strokes from the pubic mound to die anus; “the pussy pet” for gently cupping and warming the vulva with a hand; “rock around the clit clock” for little finger circles around the clitoral glans; “ringing the doorbell” for pressing into the urethral sponge from the abdomen. Then with permission from our partners (and it was fine to choose not to be entered), we were guided in a series of strokes to pleasure the inside of the vagina, including the urethral sponge, vaginal walls, and cervix. For many women this was the first time they’d had the opportunity to really focus on how different areas of the vagina feel. During this time memories of my own sexual abuse came up very powerfully. Previously, my urethral sponge had been so hypersensitive that it was painful to have it touched deeply, but during this safe, guided breathing and touching exercise, something changed for me and opened up,

and now all I feel in that area of my vagina is intense pleasure. Annie kept encouraging us to breathe deeply, to keep the energy that was building up in the clitoris flowing to the rest of the body. At this point she led us to do “the Big Draw,” a technique that helped intensify and focus the energy. Those of us who wanted to could have vibrators placed against our clitorises, and since we were so sexually charged many women had dramatically intense whole-body orgasms. During the release I felt amazing tidal waves of energy move throughout my entire body and I felt things I had never felt before. For example, my fingertips, which normally I don’t focus on at all, felt like incredible energy whorls and I luxuriated in these unexpected sensations. Afterward we all lay on our mats and blankets, many of us gently laughing or crying quietly, releasing all the energy that we’d created over the course of the weekend. After the genital massage session, we spontaneously started sharing our experiences, and it turned out that many of us had a similar sense of feeling released from deeply embedded feelings of shame or apprehension and of being reborn into a new world of sexual discovery and fulfillment, and were amazed at how healing and safe it was to share this with each other.

Over the next year, and with Annie’s guidance and support, Isa and two friends established the Sacred Harlots School of Erotic Mysteries in New York City, billing their sessions as “Opening the Gates: A Series of Guided, Ritualized Workshops for Women.” (See Resources)

MY EXPERIENCE AT THE BODY ELECTRIC WORKSHOP

One night over dinner, when the conversation between two activists inevitably turned to sex, a friend told me about the Body Electric workshops for women. The workshops, she said, were designed to help women discover their erotic potential through energy enhancement techniques, body-positive exercises, and erotic massage. “I had the best full-body orgasm I ever had,” she said unequivocally. I was definitely intrigued (who wouldn’t be?) and a few months later, when I was shopping in Eve’s Garden I picked up a flyer for an upcoming workshop. Needless to say, I immediately signed up for the two-and-one-half-day seminar entitled “Celebrating the Body Erotic for Women.”

I had previously taken Gina Ogden’s seminar on sexuality and spirituality, Betty Dodson’s advanced seminar for sexuality educators, and Annie Sprinkle’s Sluts and Goddesses workshop. I found each of these programs to be enormously empowering in terms of how I felt about women’s sexuality in general and my own in particular, and in many different ways.

I escaped from a soggy rush-hour commute into a spacious loft in lower Manhattan. As I took off my shoes and changed into comfortable workout clothes I observed women who were already there stretching, meditating, or moving rhythmically to the ethereal music pulsating in the background. Much of the first evening was devoted to getting acquainted through various movement exercises, “conscious breathing,” and sharing information about ourselves and our expectations for the weekend. We had an ideal group of a dozen participants plus the facilitator and three assistants, including heterosexual women and lesbians from ages twenty-three to seventy. Some were in relationships and some were not. As would be expected in any group of women, some were seeking healing from childhood sexual abuse. One lesbian couple came together. Several women had attended other Body Electric workshops, and one who is a sexuality educator remarked, “I’m always helping other people. I do this every year to help myself.” Some were seeking spiritual grounding through sexuality (which Body Electric emphasizes), while others were hoping to discover new sensual techniques and ideas for erotic play as ends in themselves. All, however, wanted to access elusive erotic energy and enhance sexual pleasure and/or orgasmic potential. In the opening circle, a number of women mentioned that they didn’t feel good about their bodies and were seeking to improve their self-image. The youngest, at twenty-three, said that she came from a very conservative, religious background,

and had signed up for the workshop “to be with other women like myself.” My heart nearly broke when the eldest participant said, “I’ve been married for fifty years, and all this time, my husband has been dead from the neck down.” I was moved to imagine the courage it must have taken for her to sign up for this workshop.

Most of us breathe just enough to get by, so the ancient Tantric technique of conscious breathing may seem like work at first. We breathed together rhythmically, deep, relaxing breaths, then fast and forceful. We paired off and breathed together, then coached each other. Walking home later that night, I realized that I really did feel lighter, more alert, energetic, and—pardon the cliché—”alive.”