On Puberty.

Reblogged from Rants.:

Immanuel Kant believed that we humans, because we are so emotionally complex, go through two puberties in life. The first puberty is when our bodies become mature enough for sex; the second puberty is when our minds become mature enough for sex. The two events can be separated by many, many years. Perhaps our emotional maturity comes to us only through the experiences and lessons of our youthful romantic failures.

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Sex is such an important part of who I am, of where I "seat" my identity, but I have to agree with this "rant" that I re-blogged...there is the dis-integrated SEX of youth and the integrated (ultimately more satisfying) SEX of maturity...and I would never trade the former for the latter. I always heard from my older female friends when I was in my 20's (when my sex-life was legitimately great): "I swear, it gets so much better...you cannot even imagine how great sex is after 30!"...I would nod, secretly thinking, "Yeah, right." Well, now at 38...YEAH...FUCK YEAH, THEY WERE RIGHT! xxx conchita.

Your Fetish is MY Fetish…and Mine is Yours.

Fetish,

Is defined by Merriam-Webster as, “An inanimate object worshiped for its supposed magical powers or because it is considered to be inhabited by a spirit.”

The word fetish originally meant “charm,” and it originates from the 15th century Portuguese word feitico, which means false power, object or charm. For example, when the Portuguese explored West Africa and encountered native religions, they called whatever talisman (totems, carvings, beads) they revered a fetish.

To the Portuguese in those days, the fetishists were those who worshiped the unusual. Later on, however, the implication of the word took on a whole different meaning.

Today, Fetishes are defined by the DSM (the “bible” of mental health) as, “Persistent preferential sexual arousal in association with non-living objects, an over-inclusive focus on (typically non-sexual) body parts (e.g., feet, hands) and body secretions…Partialism, an exclusive focus on part of the body.”

The DSM goes on to specify criteria that would merit a clinical diagnosis (mental disorder); however, the main dysfunction being that it hinders ones life/job/relationships in some disabling manner. For most of us though…our fetishes do not have such debilitating effects. The majority of healthy sexually active adults that I know utilize their fetishes as an integral and satisfying part of their sex-play.

There are the typical fetishes: hands/feet, water, hair, voyeurism/exhibitionism, fingernails/lipstick, stomachs, tattoos/piecings, rubber/latex, BDSM.

And then there are the atypical fetishes…that encompass all manner of oddities…things you may have never even fathomed. Working as a Dominatrix I encountered some interesting ones: golden showers, suffocation, torture, cross-dressing, infantilism, pony-play, forniphilia (using someone as furniture, literally), dog training, emetophilia (vomiting)…to name a few.

As a psychotherapist I encountered an even stranger (creepier?) fetish:

Coprophilia, or the poop fetish.

My patient was a beautiful girl really, delicate and fine boned, and she always reminded me of a classically-trained ballerina; however, she was a dominatrix. She often spoke of her clients and the ways in which she dealt with managing/tolerating their particular fetishes, and one in particular fascinated and disgusted her (and me):

The guy who constructed a toilet that fit over his head so that she could defecate into his mouth.

I know…take a moment to breathe. The most fascinating part about this act was not that someone was into it, people are into all nature of disgusting things…no, it was the manner in which she had to psych herself up to do this act that she found repulsive.

And yet even in her abhorrence it was clear that there was a kind of pleasure that she derived from this act, which made me re-consider…perhaps fetishes cannot so simply be defined and dismissed as “partialism” or an inability to relate to another as a whole, some form of lesser connection.

When a fetish is enacted with the participation of another, it becomes necessarily an exchange.

While the above is an extreme illustration I think that many of us can still relate to this concept of fetishism as connection. If you have ever indulged a lover in his or her “special desire” you know this to be true. For example, even if you do not particularly find spanking a turn-on…the simple fact that it excites your lover, by consequence also excites YOU. It is this very exchange-of-kink (if you will) that has lead me to  the belief that functional fetish play can be extremely important and even beneficial in healthy sexual relationships…as it requires one to accept and enact another’s desire solely because it is theirs; we indulge them and in turn we are also satisfied.

With that…I encourage you to…go on…get your kink-on…because it is virtually gauranteed that someone will be there in indulge and enjoy with you!

xxx

dr.c.

(images by: Mayumi)

Dance.

“Dance, when you’re broken open. Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you’re perfectly free.” - Rumi

It’s nothing new to say that dance is an expression of the spirit that has existed since (and perhaps before) humankind. People have danced in celebration, in loss, in ritual. However, to me, the most striking feature of dance is its ability to communicate a nearly pure form of emotion…without the mess and inaccuracy of words…dance is feeling…dance speaks what we cannot fully articulate…dance draws us in and has the capacity to draw our real-self out.

And the only thing asked of us…is to: “let go”…let your body control your mind…an awkward exchange for many of us…perhaps that’s why alcohol and other illicit substances are such an integral part of nightlife in today…quite simply, we need help letting go. Not to criticize, I require that extra courage as much as the next…but it does beg the question:

Have we as humans gotten so far from the mind-body connection that truly surrendering mind to body presents such a challenge?

I have no real answer to the conundrum I’ve posed…just something that while rolling around on social media came to mind…and since I am all about exploring the physical-sensual through the lens of mindfulness, I thought I would pass it on as fodder for those intrigued by similar questions…hope you have a fabulous weekend, xxx conchita.

Peenzilla Worship! Japan's Kanamara Festival Coming Up this April!

Reblogged from RocketNews24:

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This year on 7 April, the lusty cries of  "Kanamara, dekkai mara!" (“steel rod, giant dong!”) will once again ring through town.

Japan, traditionally a country where well-endowed foreigners are very welcome, embraces big penis worship in this very special festival. For the largest erections you’ve ever seen (anyone know Jonah Falcon personally?), save the date: Sunday 7 April 2013 at Kanayama Shrine in Kanagawa.

Read more… 597 more words

This year on 7 April, the lusty cries of ”Kanamara, dekkai mara!” (“steel rod, giant dong!”) will once again ring through town. Japan, traditionally a country where well-endowed foreigners are very welcome, embraces big penis worship in this very special festival.

Real Words of LOVE, You Won’t Find in a Card this Valentine’s…but Maybe in a Blunt.

Today, I  have been thinking a lot about love…it is Valentine’s Day, soon…which I know is a ridiculous holiday…but it always seems to pull me in at the last minute…arrrghhh…and despite the cheesy commerciality of the holiday…you know I love love…and today in my daily wanderings I came across some sound relationship advice from none other than Bob Marley. Why does it seem like this man had the secrets of the universe all rolled into a joint?

FOR HER:

“He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.”

FOR HIM:

“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect – you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break – her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.”

And with that sage advice…I think we all could lighten up a bit on those we love this Valentine’s…after all it’s not really about candy and flowers…it’s about finding someone to share your world with…your view…your heart…unconditionally…Damn it’s so easy to forget that and yet so essential for love to endure.

xxx

conchita.

My Ball Gag: A Lesson in the (Bitter) Sweet Sacrifice of Surrender

I planned to write about something completely different today, however a friend sparked a distant memory and…I was too distracted to think of anything else but:

Ball gags.

To me ball gags represent one of the highest forms of non-physical punishment.

They do not hurt, and restrain only minimally.

No the real domination if the ball gag is…mental.

I know I have told this story before, but it’s a good one:

I was shooting for a BDSM website and one of the shots called for a ball gag with attached nipple clamps. I had already done a couple shots with the clamps and was having quite a lot of fun so of course I responded in the affirmative,

“Yeah sure, bring it on!”

I mean how horrible could it be…right?

The gag was this gorgeous blue color, with handmade silver chains attached to delicate little nipple clamps…harmless and beautiful.

And THAT, my friends, was my error: looks can be terribly deceiving.

And so, enchanted by the royal blue color and shiny silver links I donned the gag and clamps for the shot. As I was waiting for the photographer to set up the lights, something started to happen…

Drip

Drip

DRIP

(shit, my lipstick)

I desperately started to try to suck up all of this very non-cosmetic and increasingly offensive DROOL

Sssssllllluuuurrrpppppppppppppssshhhh…

Despite my efforts it was becoming increasingly apparent that not only could I not suck up the slobber…but also, the flow was increasing…and I was beginning to…

GAG!

(Oooohhhhhhhh…so, that is why they call it a…)

In a desperate attempt for help I started to whine between my SLURPS

“mmmmmssssuuuooorrrrrssshhhhhmmmmmeeeeeeeee.”

The photographer looked up, with the most satisfied sadistic expression across his face, and said,

“Oh honey, yeah…don’t try to stop it just let it flow!”

I whimpered, in response. (Fine.)

I let it go…and it went. Long disgusting trails of slobber trailed down my entire naked body. And everyone on the shoot was pleased, except me.

It wasn’t that I was suffering, oh who am I kidding…I was suffering! But more than that, I was…ashamed.

The complete and total lack of control of my body was driving me mad…and the alternative choice was not very appealing: choke to death on my own spit…what could I do? I let it go, let all the slime just spew from my mouth.

I will admit there was a certain pleasure in it, but not the kind of self-possessed pleasure I am accustomed to, no this was more like surrender…I surrendered and my reward was…permission to let my body take over.

If you think about it it’s not unlike the experience of an orgasm, for a woman, you have to let go and let your body take over in order to climax… it is also a surrender to the physical that in many ways that must begin with the mental.

So…the next time you have the choice to either preserve your dignity or surrender it…go for the latter…I promise it will be far more instructive and ultimately more satisfying.

Cheers to wetness!

Xxx

Conchita.

Sexercise…Solutions to Dieting

After multiple scandalous posts on Facebook and Instagram, it was determined by observant friends that I am orally fixated today.

And so…in the interest of self-realization, and with the help of one kind soul, I present you with this slightly nasty, definitely naughty image.

And remember when considering a healthy diet…always keep your lover/s…in mind!

Happy Monday…it’s nice to be back…and yes, promises of more substantial posts to cum…errr…COME!

xxx
conchita.

Remembering my Father Through the Lens of the Sandy Hook Masacre: Death and Mental Illness

“It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.”

- Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths you Can’t Avoid

Today, I remember as the day my father died.

At the time I was told that he died of a heart attack; my mother made that decision.

Later, during a confrontation about…guns, I was told that he committed suicide.

After losing his entire family in the Jone’s Town mass-suicide/murder, his life was full of suffering. We knew that he fought demons he would never slay, and wrestled with understanding of a senseless act that was incomprehensible.

He earned psychological diagnoses that ranged from bi-polar depression to schizophrenia. And near the end of his life he believed that he was God.

I did not have an easy childhood, before or after his death. And as a young adult I struggled to understand “why”…even searching his medical records to see if something else could have been done, something that may have saved him. Indeed my choice to become a mental health worker was entirely due to this loss as was the desire to work to remove the stigma of mental illness that our society has worked so hard to sustain over centuries.

This year as I reflect on my father, his death, and my own life…I also think of the recent tragedy in Sandy Hook Connecticut and of the man who committed this atrocity. He too was mentally ill. He too was armed with a gun. And while mental illness is pertinent to his story, I think it’s important to know it is not the entire story…the majority of mentally ill people are not violent towards others. It is my hope that as a knee jerk reaction we do not allow our mentality about mental illness to revert back to the middle ages, labeling and discarding those who are suffering, out of fear; rather, I hope that we will search for understanding and therefore strengthen the responsibility that we have as a society to all people.

No one act stands alone…it’s consequences are far reaching and meaningful…it’s up to us to make that meaning.

For me, my father’s suicide served to allow me to create a more meaningful life…which I imagine would make him very proud. Rest…I know you are now at peace, Dad.

xxx c.

The True Measure of Human Perversity

“It seems to me the measure of the true perversity of the human race, that one of its very few reliably pleasurable activities should be the subject of so much hysteria and repression.”

- From A Dangerous Method

Do Women NEED to Cum?

Oh, women and our orgasms…perhaps, one of the most over-strived-for and under-appreciated experiences in our lives…males, female, self, other…WE WOMEN WANT TO CUM! But here is the real question:

Do we NEED to cum?

Yesterday I wrote a post about masturbation as an exercise in mindfulness, which really got me thinking about…well, about cumming. Later that day I came upon (you know it’s punny) a quote by the vivacious and voracious Mae West:

“An orgasm a day keeps the doctor away.”

I posted this quote on Facebook as I often post semi-provocative sentiments to see what sparks people and in this case the ladies were indeed sparked (the exchange follows below). While there were the expected comments about how and when to cum, there was an interesting split between the psychological benefits of orgasm versus the physiological, which got me thinking…I don’t even have to look to know there is a plethora of scientific research our there providing evidence as to the mental and physical health benefits of orgasms, just like I don’t need to look in a stats book to know that statistics are incorrect 40% of the time. So, rather than bore you with numbers from studies that have a clear agendas,  I thought I would speak from personal experience…(you all tend to prefer that anyway).

As I have previously discussed, for me orgasms from masturbation represent a form of release that leads to an increased level of focus; they are simple to achieve and result in the release of tension, serotonin kicks-in and chills me out so that I may continue to write/work/think etc. The psychological benefit is clear. However the physiological benefit is less evident, granted I am sure that mechanisms of action are occurring beneath my level of consciousness (I am somehow increasing my lifespan by orgasming), but my immediate impression is often: I am a bit raw, and messy, and my muscles feel stiff…I honestly don’t feel that stellar, body-wise.

Whereas, if I orgasm from SEX…the experience seems to be reversed.

Typically, as we know, sex takes a bit more precursor than masturbation (not always, but at least a little forethought is needed)…and that requires some form of psychological application: feelings, thoughts, considerations…it’s not just you, after all. And all of these expectations can, and often do, create tension:

“Am I cumming? Are you cumming? are we cumming…together?”

However, if the psychological benefits of sex lag behind the immediate gratification of masturbation, then the physiological payoff is much…bigger! Unlike the sore messy state that masturbating so often leaves me in, sex has the benefit of simultaneously exhausting and relaxing every muscle in my body. Maybe it’s the flood of adrenalin or dopamine or whatever, acting as natural pain killers, but after sex I physically feel NOTHING. Yes yes, so maybe I’m a little sore but by then I’ve passed-out asleep so it doesn’t really matter…and sleep…well I can just about guarantee I will not wake up until the morning, that is unless you wake me up.

Perhaps, sex is a case of physical satisfaction and benefit leading to the psychological: “I simply no longer care…about anything!”

And so here we are full circle,

Do women need to cum?

And my answer, as a learned clinician is: Yes…often and in every way possible in order to ensure our psychological and physical health.

xxx Dr. Conchita.