The 1st Official David Carradine Orgasmic Meditation Contest!
A true Zen master meditative master should be able to achieve orgasm with meditative thought alone,or one would think.So I want all you meditation fans to get busy and report your first meditative orgasm here on this blog.The winner in this contest doesn't receive a trophy ,money etc.Your prize will be to share with us your secrets and receive mass adulation from your new fans.Happy meditating.Oh wet dreams don't count.
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sorry master crumbles... no time.
(From the onion)
As A Working Mom, It's Hard To Find Time To Masturbate
As a single mother of three with a full-time career, I've got a lot on my plate. Between making the children's breakfast in the morning and making sure they brush their teeth at night, I hardly have any time to take care of myself. Sometimes, I just get so darn busy that I'll realize it's 6 p.m. and I haven't even eaten yet! Can you imagine? Not that I'm complaining, though. I love being a mom. But I'll tell you what—sometimes I find it just about impossible to find a spare moment to stimulate my clitoris until I reach glorious climax.
From the moment I wake up, I'm always worrying about someone else. I've got to make the kids' lunches, get them on the bus—no easy task when it comes to Melanie—and then race around to get the house straightened up so I can leave for work. And after a grueling eight-hour day, I've got to turn around and go grocery shopping, stop at the bank, and pick up the kids after their extracurricular activities. I'm telling you, sometimes it feels like I barely have a second to breathe, let alone 20 minutes to writhe beneath my bedspread with the passionate thoughts of sensuous lovemaking until I gasp with the force of my full-body orgasm.
Of course, I can't blame that entirely on the kids. Sure, there are times when I'm picking up dinner, and I think about how easy it would be to sneak off to the restroom and rub off a quickie. But then a special on that cereal the kids like distracts me, or I happen to run into a chatty neighbor, or I'm just too pooped out from work to take that special "me time." And that's really no one's fault but my own. I just keep telling myself, "That's okay, Sheryl. Tomorrow you can take the afternoon off and run a bath, light some candles, and tease your engorged vulva to thoughts of that carpenter who put in our basement molding. Tomorrow."
But I never do.
I'm not usually one to whine about such things, but my work isn't doing me any favors either. All day long I'm in meetings or filling out expense reports or trying to fix the work that that damn Carol didn't do right the first time. Even if I do take my lunch break to slip off into the handicapped stall, hike up my skirt, and start pleasuring my body with two, three, sometimes four fingers at a time, inevitably my cell phone will ring or someone will walk in and distract me, and eventually I just give up and go back to my desk having never shuddered uncontrollably with the powerful release only my dexterous hands can provide.
No one tells you when you're young, but having kids just upends your whole life. One minute, you're more than willing to lie on the couch for two or more hours, rubbing massage oil over your breasts and inner thighs until your primed body is aching for that last gentle stroke that will send it over the edge. And then the next minute you have a few children and all of the sudden the only thing that gets you excited is not finding another cavity at the dentist's office. It's all about priorities. And, until the kids go off to good colleges and I save up enough vacation days to make it worthwhile, I guess getting down on all fours in front of the full-length mirror and slowly working my trusty purple vibrator in and out of my dripping love canal with increasing speed and intensity will just have to wait.
cont.
I only wish I still had a husband to take some of this work off my hands. If I had a man around the house, I bet I could find all sorts of opportunities to masturbate.
Ah, well. No rest for the weary, I suppose. I'm certainly not going to win any points with the feminists by saying so, but maybe we women simply can't have it all. Maybe we have to make the choice between being a working woman who occasionally coaxes her pussy into such a lather that her hands are slicked with love juices, or a mother who spontaneously pulls over to the side of the road on the way to pick up the kids from day camp and swirls her fingers over her love button over and over and again and again, faster and faster until she's screaming, "Yes! Yes!" and slamming her fists on the car horn.
Because sometimes when you try to have it all, you end up losing what's most important to you: earth-shattering, toe-curling multiple orgasms.
I guess if you got no time to rub one out you got no time to meditate.To bad you were one of the frontrunners lol.
For thsoe that are interested in reading more on the topic of David Carradine’s death & erotic asphyxiation. And if you not interested...too fucking bad I'm posting it anyway.
Part 1
written by "Gideon, a member of the NYC kink community."
"In the wake of actor David Carradine’s death, possibly by erotic asphyxiation, many are wondering why anyone would want to be choked during sex. In a piece that should not be read by a minor, this writer and practitioner tells you why he persists in doing it.
What was David Carradine into? Speculation about the answer to that question has been swirling ever since the Kung Fu and Kill Bill actor was found dead in a Bangkok hotel room last week. Carradine was reportedly found dead of asphyxiation, perhaps wearing fishnets and a wig, with red women’s lingerie laying nearby on the bed. It remains unclear whether he was alone or not—though people do die from autoerotic asphyxiation (choking themselves while masturbating), some have raised the question of how Carradine could have tied himself up without someone else’s help.
But whether he did it to himself or was aided by a partner, as a member of the New York kink community, I know a number of people who are into erotic choking, and I’ve experimented with it myself from time to time. I know the dangers of Carradine’s alleged fetish, but, yes, I can also testify to its dangerous pleasure.
The French call an orgasm la petite mort—the little death. If you’ve ever felt your oxygen being cut off as you’re headed toward climax, you’ll understand why.
The French call an orgasm la petite mort—the little death. If you’ve ever felt your oxygen being cut off as you’re headed toward climax, you’ll understand why. One light squeeze around the neck, timed with an increase in sexual rhythm, can make the erotic nature of an intimate encounter as frighteningly pleasurable as it is dangerous. There is a direct physiological explanation behind the increased sensation, and it has more to do with the rush of oxygen that comes after the release of the choke. When the sudden burst of air is combined with the endorphins released during sex, the result is a heightened thrill.
But the psychological effect is all the more powerful. As Oscar Wilde put it, “All men kill the thing they love.” Now of course, we don’t actually want to kill our loved ones (as much as they annoy us sometimes) but even the possibility is exhilarating. Choking is the only way that a completely unskilled person can really kill another with nothing but bare hands. And the second the hands wrap around the throat and a little pressure is given, that deadly truth hangs there between two lovers. “Breath play,” as it is known in the kink community, involves having sex—or making love, if that is the case—while depriving your lover of the most basic element needed to stay alive. It’s the absolute in deprivation play, and too much deprivation can end a life."
Part 2
written by "Gideon, a member of the NYC kink community."
Every tiny ounce of pressure added has an exponential effect. And then—the release. When the flood of the oxygen returns to the starved bloodstream, an understanding—conscious or not—runs between the lovers:
The choker is giving the gasper’s breath back to them after taking it away. Something much more precious and important than just a run-of-the-mill orgasm.
Most kinksters I’ve spoken to said that they were interested in choking for years before they’d ever tried it, some of them before they were even sexually self-aware. Some of us may have played the “fainting game” when we were younger, not knowing that there was a whole world of erotic undercurrent to it.
“There’s a whole level of trust and intimacy there that’s more intense than any other sex-play I can think of,” says one "gasper" I’ve spoken with. Another young woman with whom I’ve been intimate said that she’d never been choked before, but after she requested a few gentle squeezes on her throat during sex, I was surprised to find she was hooked.
Another friend told me that although she identifies more as a dominant than a submissive, she also enjoys restraining her breath during sex. “Your body isn’t sure what it wants, less or more. And it’s all that more amazing when you can’t control it.”
Of course, whenever one plays with dangerous or potentially deadly elements in the bedroom, safety is essential. Sex and kink expert Jay Wiseman has written extensively on the topic and advises against breath-play by anyone not trained in CPR. “Oxygen is to the brain what oil is to your engine. The primary danger of suffocation play is that it is not a condition that gets worse over time; what happens is that the more the play is prolonged, the greater the odds that a cardiac arrest will occur.” Applying some of the safety techniques he recommends can take some of the danger out of the play, but engaging in asphyxiation games should always be viewed as a prohibitively risky endeavor.
The tragedy of David Carradine’s death (presuming it was breath play and not an intended suicide) shows what happens when this type of sexual activity goes wrong. One small slip, or a miscalculation with a noose, could result in a sudden strangulation, a crushed windpipe, or even a snapped neck.
The little death can become the big one which is why, despite its attraction, I have to dissuade readers from experimenting with it.
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