Outside, and during the day, evidence of the seasons' coming grandeur lights the tree tips with round, soft puffs of green and pink Yes buds, near to brimming but yet gathered close and tight, milking the moment's pleasure -- testing just how much they can hold and feel in the waiting and the anticipation of desperate release.
I think, when it comes right down to it, Mary just couldn't back away from the chance to experience the ecstasy of divine union. I believe she, like Eve before her, had to know, touch, taste and love on her own terms.
I had a difficult time when my partner would look at other women and comment on their beauty, boobs, sexiness, etc. Being a modern woman, I would pretend to laugh at his comments as if they meant nothing to me. But deep down, I struggled with the feeling that I wasn't enough, wasn't sexy or busty or young enough.
My relationship with them is a mixture of confusion, tenderness, wildness; they tantalize me with their presence, their weight, and the way in which they seem to be always in the way. My breasts and I.
By Shasta Townsend
Excerpt from Happy, Sexy, Shameless – What Our Mothers Didn’t Know About the Birds and the Bees which rose to #1 in its category and became an international best seller. Get your copy today on Amazon.com.
Have you or a woman in your life grown weary of the myth, confusion and shame that continue to swirl around female sexuality? I know I was.
A couple years ago, I was just feeling angry, confused and plain disconnected from my self and my sexual identity. I had a deep spiritual practice but many of the classical traditions inferred that sex was a distraction and desire was a sign you were off the path. This just did not feel right to me. It felt like a denial of what seemed natural and delightful.
It seemed to me that sex could be a celebration of life, and even the Divine.
I was also fed up with the projections I was hanging onto...
This is the beginning of a new narrative, one I wish could make its way into a Hollywood screenplay and into the consciousness of our world. I wish this idea of men reveling in the moment of a woman's absolute rapture could become a mass cultural reality, a blockbuster hit to rival all blockbuster hits.
Love and heart open wide,
as the tune and melody
come to the page and play
in brilliant order.
With a deep breath,
the magic forms
from the angst and frustration.
Words of magic
dance with wonder,
forming spells and notions.
Inspirations and illumination.
with your song ,
blow me your kiss.
My Valentine to myself this year is to know what I truly want and need in a relationship. I want a man who can hold me hard (and soft) and make me feel like there is nothing in the world that can hurt me -- because his strength and wisdom will overcome all things.
Splash all the paints you have.
Let's make something abstract.
Or just sketch an outline
and shade me with your love.
Go under my skin now.
Use your lips now and paint me.
Let my goosebumps add to your artwork.
Wet, our bodies swelled against each other with a perpetuating force that felt self-sustaining -- and again, annihilating. Oh, that dense intensity of alchemy between you and me! A sort of energy that tantalized and taunted saying: "Do it… I dare you. Unleash that wild thing beneath your skin. Let it sin!"
Straddle me with your strength. Plant your hands onto my waist and move me. Embrace my womanly curves with your gentle grasp. Slide up my beat. Glide down my thunder. Vibrate my movements. Let me saddle you with my unrelenting hips.
Love is a recipe, nothing more, nothing less. It starts with two people, a cup of trust, a tablespoon of playfulness, a dash of respect, a pinch of vulnerability and an arena where these ingredients can be happily mixed together and baked.