1. Come slit including the yonic interior

2. Tip, extending to its coronal edge

3. Frenulum, including the clitoral gap

4. Labial wrap at frenulum

5. Twin cock pillars within

6. Urethral canal, between the cock pillars

7. Dorsal artery

8. Lesser arteries

9. Scrotum

10. Testicles

11. Interior surface of the scrotum

12. Organs of ejaculation

n

And if you’re reading this, you probably love masturbation and don’t need to have a month dedicated to it; there’s merely something zesty about it.

But what if we used the designation of Masturbation Month to push our self-love edge? Perhaps settings could change. Or durations. Or what we do with our awareness.

And what if we expanded the somatic scope of masturbation?

To taste. To taste ourselves.

Yes, I’m challenging you. Our bodies, in the making of love or self love are fonts of zesty juiciness. Yonic lubrication, precum, spray, semen, sperm. Our bodies are like small storms when they take us on sensual adventures.

So yes, I challenge you to close the loop. Taste your stuff. How doesn’t matter. Off your fingers. Sprayed into an antique appertif glass. Off of your go-to towel. But whatever you do, taste it, savor it, notice that it’s a trophy-like manifestation of joy. Eat it to kiss the unreachable self. Eat it in honor and gratitude for all the times a lover has taken it in.

And maybe even respond here after you’ve recovered. A little splash emoji or as much as you want to share.

And for everyone who chimes in here saying they did it with some commentary. I’ll eat my next pearlescent liquid elation

.

The loving glide of the labial cylinder at its most exterior

It’s hyper abundant response to a kegel

The glide of the interior of the scrotum against the balls

The involuntary generation of seed

The autonomous throb

Awe inspiring rigidity

It’s hypersensitivity.

Its seemingly magical expansion … and then more

The inevitable escalation of pleasure within it

The way it always comes back

The way it often has a pocket of newness for me to discover

It’s ability to cause fantasy, seemingly on its own

It’s ever-present heart connection

Extended

Expanding

Expectant

Expansive

Exuberant

Exhilarating

Expending

Explosive

Expulsive

Expelling

Excising

Exosmic

Exultant

Exalting

Exaltive

Expirin

g

When you blissfully look at one another, and don’t need words to say how magical the merging feels.

Love-filled

Pulsing

Alert

Softening

Recharging

Portal

Primal

Splashy

Sparkling

Engorging

Chthonic

Releasing

Filling

Lightening

Exhilarating

Agency-taking

Affirming

Generative

Pearlescent

Expansive

Tidal

Quaking

Shimmering

Lofting

Spilling

Uncontrollable

Expansive

Playful

Solid

Vulnerable

Gleeful

Splurting

Stormy

Piscean

Red eye tip top

Nudge left and right

Opens, yoni-like

Thrilling vulnerability

Red, raw, aroused

Peering down into

Root pearl depths

Heavier now

The loving touch

Challenging to touch limit

Almost too much

Inner edge flickers

Alarm mixes with joy

Thrill flits like birds

As opening takes pleasure

Like energetic penetration

Awareness seeps

Inward and downward

Red root inner pillar

Frothing with pearl

Mind now

Dissolving into it

All this yoni

Upon the penetrative.

Ultimate alertness

Infinite depth

Layers of softening

Crashing awe

Ebullient joy

Lavendar ascensions

Infinite edge dares

Sustained rigidity

Pulsing power

Red starbursts

Pure play

Bursting abundance

Liminal love

Limitless unwinding

Endless satiet

y

Many of us have the fantasy of interacting in a world where sexuality is as openly talked about as anything else: how our day is going, how did we sleep last night, what’s going on with our job. And I think we all have this fantasy because it’s deeply painful to have our sexualities, potent and beautiful as they are, hidden to the point of being shamed. Yes, a lot of this is because of privacy; but some of it is because of shame.

Do you want a break from that shame? I know I do.

Here on substack is a break from that shame.

Eros has a fabulous project underway in which she interviews people about their sexuality. Her warmth in the way she forms connections with people and explores their sexual identities and activities, makes for conversations that I think any of us would find affirming at levels somatic, sensual, spiritual, and even intellectual. If you listen, I’m sure you’ll get turned on at these levels.

So click on over and get affirmation, compassion, and inspiration from Eros and the people she has interviewed.

https://substack.com/@peopleoferos

I reached down with my right hand and held it gently and loosely. The grip was formed by my thumb and forefinger. With the surface of my thumb, I searched for, and rapidly found the quietly throbbing dorsal artery of my cock and then gently rubbed back and forth until the pulses of thumb and cock were in contact with one another. This is delicious. When not erect, it’s like a bite of Belgian chocolate. When erect it’s like a moist chocolate chip cookie with almost too many chips in it.

Then an invented mantra: “pulsing positive penis.” Over and over again. Heart energy soon gave my cock a gentle swell. Softening entered my consciousness. Anger about the source of the awakening noise dissipated. And then sleep took over.

I just feel so lucky to keep discovering positive little things about my fabulous cock. I just love it.

Among the hugest insights from my solo trantra practice:

We can actually get better at enjoying arousal – and there neither a point of diminishing returns, nor an end. Yeah, it’s kind of infinite.

Strength

When we get ourselves aroused, and pay attention to it. Interesting things happen. First, we send energy to our erogenous zones and genitals. Just by doing this, especially if we do it regularly, we strengthen the physiology of those areas.

Alertness

When we get aroused, and we pay attention to it, we get better at doing paying attention to it. Try it some time. When you’re aroused. Maybe your masturbating or maybe a lover is going down on you, challenge yourself with the following statement, “how loudly can I feel this joy?” You’ll be surprised how loud it can get. And it gets louder every time.

Neurological health

I get so much sustenance from sensual joy that I long ago accepted that it’s a practice in my life. And when we practice anything, we get better at it. Sensual arousal, when we get better at it, means that strengthening happens daily for the neurology of your genitals, the neurology of your erogenous zones, and the pleasure centers of your brain. Even better, these things in their strengthened states become more available to your various levels of awareness: emotional, somatic, spiritual, interpersonal. And, well, they pretty much have group sex.

So that thing your doing? Masturbation? Self love? It’s not just a release, or “getting it out of your system.” It’s actually you making your body and psyche better at joy.

Here’s what happened, paraphrased:

Me: “I really enjoyed your writing over the weekend. I read it slowly, and many times.”

Writer: “Sounds intense. What was the outcome?”

Me: “I hope you can handle this, but lots of time in pregasm.”

Writer: “You’re a hoarder and a perfectionist about your orgasms.”

Writer: “You may need to work on this.”

Me: “This may be true, and I’ve thought about it often.”

Writer: “What’s the big deal?”

Me: “Well, I just think that the ejaculate (noun) is just really sacred, and the state preceding it almost the perfect emotion. And sometimes, I consider the accumulated ejaculate to have a connection to whomever helped me froth it.”

Writer: “Yes. So you have made [her name deleted] come?”

Me: “Yes.”

Writer: “You feel that I’m in you now?”

Me: “Yes, and for a few days now.”

Writer: “You dirty sensualist. Fuck. You’re going to spray me out of you?”

Me: “Yes. And about this release of your presence, do you have any preferences?”

Writer: “If I told you, would you honor them?”

Me: “Yes”

To be continued.

Last night

I surfed the yonic groove

The seminal cleft

The vulnerable yonic crevice

The pillar meridian

Lavendar in mood

Electric in alertness

It runs

From crown opening

To ground-secret root

River banks on either side

Liminal with infinity

Tunnel spongy

Ever expanding

Fingertips danced and flirted and fucked

From volcano tip opening

Along vulva-esque totem skin

All the way to volcanic bowl

Where frothed liquid pearls

Retained and cherished

And informing these words

Every time you make love to yourself, you vigorously activate and strengthen the many small organs of arousal: capillaries, veins, arteries, nerves, and the part of your brain that experiences pleasure. That strengthening is among the effects means that there will be more – every time. Yes, this is an infinitude.

Summoning her dancer’s bodily voice for sublime but captivating hip movements, she sauntered towards him. Micro pirouettes caused her cock to menacingly bob left, then right. A backward and haughty thrust of the shoulder blades sent the cock tip upward, as if expressing dominance over all within its path, in which was only one thing. Mark lay on the bed; face down and in the very position in which Cheryl herself had been unfairly taken. Not necessarily raped, but violated, because the intercourse that injured her beloved yoni had painfully become too much when it continued despite her requests that it stop.

Requesting, by the way, that would not be on the menu for Mark, who had so juicily volunteered for this role play. Small, toned and almost boyish in its muscular definition, Mark’s ass still glistened with their shared effort to lubricate his opening, which was now hers to do with whatever she pleased. His smoothly shaved balls hung in quiet anticipation for the tension that would soon fill them; their quietude would soon cease. Walking toward him, Cheryl looked down at her erection and playfully aligned its veiny meridian with the path that lay between her and Mark. Just three strides. And as she closed the distance between them, she experienced the impossible sensation of air traveling over the aquiline tip before bristling along the garden-hose artery that adorned the entire centerline of this beautiful organ.

The challenge is exhilarating. I’m to assist the priestess in her preparation to be with the warriors at the Piscean pond. My task is brutal. I’m to select the small cohort of objects and fabrics that will adorn her body and magnify her presence, as if either is needed. Erotic radiance dominates her identity. And I need to survive her aura. No matter what it does to my psyche, sensual self, balls or cock, I am not to ejaculate in her presence. Arousal, infinite possibly, and even orgasm is fine. But I’m required to retain the seed and zest she invokes in me, no matter how much she froths my thoughts and loins. In fact, there are multiple penances for release without permission. I’m to eat it all, on hands and knees if necessary. For as long as it takes. Eat it all up until her sacred space is as if I never came. And then await my penance, which typically requires a certain number of days in sexual servitude to the warriors.

A priestess, you’ll recall, well - her aura invokes arousal in anyone, male or female who gets closer to her. The closer, the more intense the arousal. The deeper the emotional or spiritual connection, the more intense the arousal. Among my peers are other very young men who, though they thought they could handle it, have been completely undone in the lavender aura of a priestess. Yes, they hold up for a few minutes – maybe even 10 or 15. They try to starve their cocks of energy, they actually shift their stance with the effort of clenching every striation of muscle within their pelvic bowl. The smart ones manipulate their breath. I saw one of the younger men last about 6 minutes. But it’s never of use until a certain length of time and some invisible shift in manhood and internal steadfastness has been learned and internalized.

But before that point is reached, it’s no use. The last time I saw a fellow acolyte fail, his cock was far too energetically small a vessel (though it did capture the eye with its curve, length, and width) for the energy projected into it by the priestess, from whom he was getting guidance on the herbs of the root and yoni. The swirling eddies of energy in his cock made it thrash up and down like a palm tree in a hurricane. Precum splashed and leaped from its constraining tip as if it sought to warn those nearby of the cataclysm to come. The prelude to orgasm arched his back as if he’d been struck by electricity. The violence of his ejaculation seemed powered by the clenching of every muscle in his body, down to his spasmodically clenching fists. His semen left his body with such speed that it blurred in the air and could be audibly heard splatting against the priestess, who calmly smirked in victory. His first jet of molten pearl collided with the priestess’ wine glass, so hard that it wobbled - one worried it would topple, causing wine and seed to mix on the tabletop.

Prepared for such failure, the priestess was smartly wearing ceremonial fabric to which the cum would cling, and not give way to gravity. There it remained, ripe and warm for the duration of the first penance. The amount of cum, sprayed with near perfect randomness in its volume and distance of spray, seemed to defy physiology. For if the mass of sprayed elation could surely have filled the porridge bowl from which I ate this morning. And as the cowed acolyte lapped up the mess of his seed hurricane, lest he be lashed by one of the warriors, the beads of liquid pearl that had collided with the priestess remained perfectly unchanged, as if by some entropy preventing magic. After being sternly alerted to the many splashes he had sprayed onto the nearby floor, furniture, and herb samples, he then knelt before the priestess awaiting the details of his penance, with his hands behind his back, his face damp with the residue of his lapped semen, and his still leaking cock flaccid on the floor between his calves.

Let’s all experience the perfect emotion today, even if - and maybe especially if - it has to be solo.

I’m full of joy; here - have some

Fullness - let’s share it

Finally, no boundaries.

Your body gives the best kisses

You feel like perfection

Can we stay connected like this all day?

You are central

I’m honored

Thank you for your trust

You amaze me

.

Once warmth and arousal has come to your hands, genitals, and awareness, try to pretend that your hands are touching your beautiful genitals for the first time. Try to access what the meditators call “beginner’s mind.” As you touch the folds and surfaces of your genitals, notice their texture – there seems to be an infinity to it – as if put under a microscope, they’d probably look like the grand canyon; and this is why they are so sensitive. Do your caresses, loving and indulgent, leave a trail of sparkles? Amazing that they respond so willingly. The dampness, it seems to come from within, as if kissing your fingertips. What do you smell? What does your arousal smell like? Notice where your genitals are hard; where they are soft. If you’re a man, notice how your masculine solidity is surrounded by a vaginal wrapper. Amazing? Oh… and what’s happening to your breath? What are your breath and heart doing in response to your self love making? Again, it might not be easy, but try to pretend that you have never felt these things before. What you notice will amaze you. We call it playing with ourselves because our sensual bodies can indeed be toys. And every toy was once in a wrapper before you possessed it. You could even imagine one of those first times doing this for yourself, when this felt like an amazing and sparkly new toy? Find that mood. This will open doors in your mind and body.