You remember it.
Maybe you didn’t or don’t call it that.
But somewhere in the body, in that place where the oldest memories live….you remember.
The monkey bars. The saddle of a horse. The corner of a chair you climbed without understanding why you kept climbing back. The bathtub faucet on a lazy Sunday afternoon when no one was home. The pillow between your legs at night, pressing, not knowing what you were pressing toward, only that something in the body was reaching for something that had no name yet.
Even as a baby feeling the seatbelt clip in the baby chair….
Not doing anything wrong.
You were doing the most natural thing in the world.
Oh …the body discovering itself.
Every woman I have ever worked with has one of these memories. Sometimes she laughs about it when we discuss the journey I took her on during tantric meditation, at times embarrassed, delighted, and even a little shocked it is still in there. Sometimes she goes quiet and tears up at the shoving down of the shame that came with it.
These memories are not just a memories. They are what was the last time your body was completely innocent about its own pleasure. Before a mother walked in and her face changed. Before your hand was moved away or the door was shut firmly behind loud verdict giving words. Sometimes it was just a look breeding silence of a specific quality. Sometimes it was a joke between adults that you were not supposed to understand but did, and what you understood was that what you had been doing in private was somehow known, and somehow shameful, and you needed to stop.
So you did…stop.
Or you didn’t, because the body doesn’t stop.
It can’t.
It was built for this, but you stopped letting yourself know you were doing it. You dissociated from it a little. You made it fast and joyless and immediately forgettable. You took something that had been wide open and curious and you made it small and secret and furtive.
And that……. is where so many women’s relationship with their own pleasure begins.
Not in a beautiful discovery but in hiding. And then……. something else happened.
You grew a little, into yrs where the shame got mixed with secretive desire and turned into some kind of electric taboo.
Ask us girls who grew up in the church. The ones who knew every word of every hymn and also knew exactly what happened behind the shed with the boy whose father preached on Sundays. Ask us if the forbidden made it less. Ask us if knowing it was a sin made us want it less.
…….It didn’t.
Son of a preacher man was the only boy who could ever reach her……. and she knew exactly why.
mmmhhh…there is such a delicious charge that lives in the forbidden. The thing you are not supposed to want, the wanting of which makes you wicked, makes you fallen, makes you the kind of girl that good mothers warn their sons about ( as if they are the innocent ) and that thing becomes magnetic. And instead of the damning dogma to stop, the message the body and mind received was “this must be extraordinary if they are working this hard to keep me from it” tee hee.
And so we carried and often still carry, both.
The shame and the hunger pressed together as inseparable. The heat underneath the guilt. The guilt feeding the heat. Sneaking, hiding and experimenting behind the shed, in the back of cars, in bedrooms with the music turned up loud, in bathrooms at parties, in places where getting caught was always just a held breath away, which somehow made it better and worse all at once.
For so many women, that is when the erotic woke up.
Not in safety but in a feared transgression.
What I do with women is give it a different container where the pleasure you found before anyone told you it was wrong……. is allowed to come home back to her and be celebrated.
Often beneath this tender space is the shame of not enjoying giving to a man. Not knowing how to relax and be with his cock and honour it with enjoyment.
For many women there is trauma connected to the aversion of giving head.
This is why I created Oral Pleasure Mastery.
Bold, specific and of course unapologetic, the sacred and sassy art of giving head. Not as some pseudo performance or a duty of something you do because you feel you should. But as full bodied pleasure filled YES.
Yours.
In your mouth, in your power, in the confidence of a woman who knows exactly what she is doing and is no longer doing it from the back of a car in the dark.
That girl found her way. And she is waiting on the other side of your shame.
Get yourself into Oral Pleasure Mastery … here
M
💋