Juice
Article by Kasia Xavier
Vital, messy, drippy. The marks of good sex are the amounts of staining that take place. Soul stains; sheet stains.
The most intense sex should squeeze from us our essences, on every level. Metaphorically, literally. I believe sex, very good sex, ought to be the place where the most raw, free and deepest parts of ourselves can come to light and be exposed.
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I make no secret of my love for come.
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All excretions are borne of the fruits of hard labor: we exert to produce sweat, we build to create orgasms and we get in touch with love or intense emotion to release tears. I adore the messy, squirting, oozing, earned feeling of the liquids that are birthed during sex.
I make no secret of my love for come. His come; my come, I love it all. All over me. Dripping down my thighs, pooling in my mouth. I like sucking his cock after he's come inside my pussy, enticing him to hardness again. I like the tastes of us combined. I love to lick the sweat off his neck, back and balls, especially after he's been fucking me. In fact, I’ll often encourage lovers to go exercise as a form of olfactory foreplay. I love that they’ve sweated something strong and I want to be there to suck it up. Not only the smell and taste of their sweat acts as an aphrodisiac, it’s the fact that he worked hard to produce it. And I love a capable man. A man who can sweat to produce the desired outcome. Or the outflow of my come.
When I’m really, deeply into someone, I want to devour and absorb every ounce of him. If he cries, I want to kiss and taste his tears too.
In a beautiful act of symmetry, we actually see the distillation of metaphorical qualities in the fluids we excrete. The Taoists see our sexual emissions as containing our yin and yang essences. Men are balanced by absorbing female fluids and vice versa. Both our sweat and our tears release toxins.
Tantric philosophy advocates that men retain their ejaculate while learning how to cultivate internal and multiple orgasms. I've always felt conflicted about this because while I see how ejaculation often drains men, especially if they don't practice any kind of recirculation,
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Aeric Meredith-Goujon
I love to eat come , wondrous elixir that it is. I love feeling the pulse of my lover's cock inside my pussy as he ejaculates. I savor that moment of release and surrender as he lies on top of or below me, soft and emptied.
I came across a Tantric text that mentions the way only men can ejaculate and not lose energy is by absorbing the yin essence – the come or lubricant produced during arousal - of his partner. Meaning, she needs to come in his mouth or with him inside her so he can draw that energy up through his cock. It's a beautiful thought, that emotionally and physically we replenish each other in giving forth that which resides at the very core of ourselves. It feeds and balances the other person.
Research has been done to suggest that the chemical composition of tears cried by watering eyes, such as by the cutting of an onion, is entirely different than that of tears cried as an expression of deep grief. The latter actually contain high levels of toxins, which suggests that a good cry not only releases us emotionally, but it detoxifies us on a physical level as well. (William H. Frey, Crying: The Mystery of Tears, 1985, Winston Press)
I experience a unique and unusual phenomenon which was given the term ‘homo triste’ by Kinsey researchers. It means that I cry when I reach a certain kind of orgasm, usually cervical. And sometimes I need a really good cry. So I seek out a really strong fuck. I’ll be bent over, being fucked exceptionally hard and I’ll reach a breaking point; I need to be broken. I’m begging to be broken. I cry, weep, sob, writhe and afterwards I am an entirely sane, relaxed, composed, placated and euphoric woman. All is well in the world once more.
(Only when its yours though)
