My last session — on Monday — was amazing, and I wrote about it here.
After the final big orgasm, as the contractions pulsated in my vagina, cervix, and anus, I burst into tears which made me deliriously happy (inside). This emotion was centered in the heart chakra. I felt the wall of my chest vibrating — a heartgasm?, and my hands flew up to my heart and over my eyes. The crying was guttural and from my core. It felt like I was finally back on my journey’s path.
This may not sound like a good thing, but I was relieved by the emotional expression that occurred. The past few weeks, my orgasms had been unemotional — with little to no crying afterward. I have begun to equate my vocal volume during and my emotional crying afterward with the intensity and number of orgasms. The louder and boo-hooey-er, the bigger and better. The lack of emotional response seemed to be synonymous with the lack of true arousal I’d been feeling.
This then brought up other emotional issues… I realized that I almost dread having sex with a partner again… the more emotional I am means the awesomer my orgasms were. Men are scared of emotion. So this is actually beginning to feel like a deal-breaker. I can’t go back to unemotional sex. Women who like casual sex — more power to them. I’ve recently discovered I just don’t want it. I would need to hide my emotions for a “just fucking” encounter, and that would hurt too much.
I know this separates me from the majority of feminists out there who think that being an empowered female means fucking anything that’s longer than it is wide and being able to walk away unaffected by the encounter. I never was that way inside, though I did have the occasional orgy one-night stand. (Another reason to love the theatre 😀 ). And I’m a humanist, not a feminist — if “feminist” is defined as thinking women should automatically be placed ahead of men just because we’re female — that’s reverse discrimination FOR the vagina, which is no better than discrimination AGAINST the vagina.
Recognizing that I… need… as well as want the emotional component of sexual experience must mean I’m getting old… or maybe more integrated with my higher self. “Needing” anything is not easy for me. I’ve always been and had to be independent. Find a way or make a way. No negotiations. No excuses. “Needing” puts me in a position of submissiveness. Vulnerability. And frankly, that freaks me out.
Not to get all woo-woo on you, but having experienced the astral plane in dreams and the cosmic orgasm from my prostate awakening, I refuse to settle for anything less. Don’t get me wrong. I would still enjoy a good ol’ fashioned hard fuck, as long as the underlying relationship is one of love and trust — then the hard fuck is really just a matter of mutual, wild, animal lust rearing its fabulous head amidst a spirit-connected sexual and sensual experience… but I can cry afterward, knowing I’m safe, that I felt safe to give myself so fully to the experience in the first place… and for me, crying is a good thing.
Aroused and blubbering,