Finally, here are the poll results for June.
We asked the question: When it comes to sex, which is more important? Here are your answers:
45% of you said Foreplay
0% of you said Afterplay
39% of you said Both
15% of you said What Happens in the Middle
All in all, not too bad. It's understandable that the majority of you polled stated that foreplay was more important to you. That makes total sense because prolonged foreplay allows both men and women to get physically ready for intercourse, particularly as we age. Psychologically speaking,foreplay builds intimacy and allows both partners to feel loved and cherished, and to enjoy intercourse even more. Bottomline: foreplay is about readying the mind and body for sex.
As important as foreplay is in getting us ready to have sex , afterplay is just as important in getting us ready for the next time. For most women, afterplay is the emotional closure that makes each sexual experience complete. It's the physical expression of intimacy and feelings of closeness that turns sex into lovemaking. Our need to cuddle and spoon, to caress and engage in sweet pillow talk sex is all about feeding our emotional connections with our lover. And it's that connection that makes us look forward to the next sexual experience. Afterplay is a vital part a loving sexual relationship. It should not be ignored.
So 39% percent of you have it right. Both foreplay and afterplay are what makes what happens in between feel so right and delicious, and loving.
This blog contains the opinions, musings and well-intentioned advice on sensuality, flirting and S.E.X. from Lori Bryant-Woolridge, bestselling author, sensuality coach, and founder of Stiletto U, a virtual university dedicated to teaching women how to be the empowered and sexy women they are meant to be. From the laundry room to the bedroom and everywhere in between, I'll explore the sensual, seductive side of life. Be charming. Be Sexy. Be YOU!
Monday, July 20, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Sunglasses
This article is reprinted from Psychologies Magazine. Kind of gives you a whole new appreciation for sunglasses.
In mythology, eyes are the windows of the soul. So the decision to replace transparent windows with impenetrable dark glass - turning them into mirrors - is a psychologically interesting one. Windows answer questions, but mirrors ask them.
Wearing sunglasses often has little to do with protection from the sun's rays and everything to do with making a statement. This makes shades one of the most potent semantic tools in anyone's wardrobe. Nothing else transforms our mood and appearance so quickly and dramatically. Sunglasses offer us a sort of furtive escape from observation. We feel protected, more private. Yet at the same time we achieve greater stand-out.
Wearing sunglasses makes us both unsettling and sexier. Unsettling because our mood cannot be read. The eyes give away more secrets than the lips. Sexier because sunglasses say, 'look at me'. Factor in the variety of styles with meanings of their own - from chic Chanel to aviator-butch Randolph Engineering - and, in terms of meaning, sunglasses put every other accessory in the shade.
In mythology, eyes are the windows of the soul. So the decision to replace transparent windows with impenetrable dark glass - turning them into mirrors - is a psychologically interesting one. Windows answer questions, but mirrors ask them.
Wearing sunglasses often has little to do with protection from the sun's rays and everything to do with making a statement. This makes shades one of the most potent semantic tools in anyone's wardrobe. Nothing else transforms our mood and appearance so quickly and dramatically. Sunglasses offer us a sort of furtive escape from observation. We feel protected, more private. Yet at the same time we achieve greater stand-out.
Wearing sunglasses makes us both unsettling and sexier. Unsettling because our mood cannot be read. The eyes give away more secrets than the lips. Sexier because sunglasses say, 'look at me'. Factor in the variety of styles with meanings of their own - from chic Chanel to aviator-butch Randolph Engineering - and, in terms of meaning, sunglasses put every other accessory in the shade.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Sexitude is Now Closed
Thank you to all of you who have asked about new Stiletto U workshop, Sexitude. Enrollment is now closed. The interest in this sensuality workshop has been phenomenal, in fact it has been so great that not only did we have to move to a larger studio, but how have a waiting list. So please join us in September for the next session. In the meantime, remember--change your sexitude, change your life!
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Speaking of Sexitude...
Sorry, I haven't blogged. I've been really busy with several upcoming projects--editing a new erotica anthology, entitled Can't Help the Way That I Feel, planning two private Stiletto U birthday parties this summer for private clients, and the upcoming Sexitude Workshop that begins this week.
So with all this going on, I'm trying to fit in a weekend at the beach with my Mothers Off Duty group. As much as I am looking forward to seeing my girls, going to the beach means wearing a bathing suit. Hmmm. I've been avoiding buying a new bathing suit for a few years now (some of you may recall the cherry red bikini story). So I went today to find a new suit. I swear trying on bathing suits is the most depressing thing, I don't care how great you feel about yourself. You know what I mean, so we we'll just agree that trying on bathing suits is that horrible recurring nightmare come true--you know, the one where you're running around naked in public, mortified and feeling totally vulnerable.
The problem is that when it comes to clothes, I've nearly mastered the art of camouflage. Folks think I'm taller, thinner, and toner than I really am--that's the miracle of knowing what styles flatter you, monotone dressing, and high heels. This allows me to dress age appropriate for let's say, a forty year-old. But a bathing suit? Well, there's just no place to hide. Fifty one is fifty one, in all it's gravity-depraved glory!
Any who, let me get to the point. I passed the string bikinis, maneuvered myself around the unstructured, peek-a-boo one pieces that might as well have been a been bikinis, and slid past the tankinis. I still don't understand those. The ones where the tops are fitted ride up just enough so your muffin top can enjoy the sun, and those that are fuller look like maternity bathing suits. Being 51 and looking preggers is not sexy. Hell, it's not even cute.
I continued my search for the hardware section of the swim shop. You know, where they store all the "look like you lost 10 pounds" and tummy control bathing suits. The ones that have pulley's at the shoulders to hoist up the girls and a steel mesh girdle to keep the baby weight you're trying to lose from your last pregnancy (so what if Eva is 16--you can't drop it overnight, you know!)from spilling out. Well, I checked out that rack and immediately got depressed. They looked like the suits my mom wears. She's 82. Enuf said.
So what rack do I find myself sifting through? THE FRICKIN' SWIM DRESSES!!! At first I am shocked into momentary paralysis. Am I really considering these? Is this what I'd been reduced to? A swim muumuu? But then I see a little Michael Kors number that is downright sexy. My mind is thinking, you look better in dresses than pants--and this is like a little miniskirt. Add a pair of cute little heels--scratch that--you're going to the beach--okay, add a pair of cute little flip flops and this might could work. Of course they don't have the little sexy number in my size, so, being a true believer in potential, I grab several and head to the dressing rooms.
The first two I tried on scared the hell out of me because when I looked in the mirror, that's right, I saw my mother. Trying not to get depress, I soldier on, eliminating the most matronly ones and holding on to the two "hey, this is kinda cute" suits. I alternated trying them on, not completely grossed out but not completely loving either one, and totally lamenting that the sexy little swim dress was not available (I swear if I see some size two chick in that suit next weekend...). But I also was feeling like if I could find the right one, I could own this look. This little swim dress idea had potential. Flirty, sexy, camouflaged potential!! Yeah baby!
So long story short. I did not buy a bathing suit today, but I am on the hunt. I did, however, purchase two adorable cover ups! Funny, how those always fit!
So with all this going on, I'm trying to fit in a weekend at the beach with my Mothers Off Duty group. As much as I am looking forward to seeing my girls, going to the beach means wearing a bathing suit. Hmmm. I've been avoiding buying a new bathing suit for a few years now (some of you may recall the cherry red bikini story). So I went today to find a new suit. I swear trying on bathing suits is the most depressing thing, I don't care how great you feel about yourself. You know what I mean, so we we'll just agree that trying on bathing suits is that horrible recurring nightmare come true--you know, the one where you're running around naked in public, mortified and feeling totally vulnerable.
The problem is that when it comes to clothes, I've nearly mastered the art of camouflage. Folks think I'm taller, thinner, and toner than I really am--that's the miracle of knowing what styles flatter you, monotone dressing, and high heels. This allows me to dress age appropriate for let's say, a forty year-old. But a bathing suit? Well, there's just no place to hide. Fifty one is fifty one, in all it's gravity-depraved glory!
Any who, let me get to the point. I passed the string bikinis, maneuvered myself around the unstructured, peek-a-boo one pieces that might as well have been a been bikinis, and slid past the tankinis. I still don't understand those. The ones where the tops are fitted ride up just enough so your muffin top can enjoy the sun, and those that are fuller look like maternity bathing suits. Being 51 and looking preggers is not sexy. Hell, it's not even cute.
I continued my search for the hardware section of the swim shop. You know, where they store all the "look like you lost 10 pounds" and tummy control bathing suits. The ones that have pulley's at the shoulders to hoist up the girls and a steel mesh girdle to keep the baby weight you're trying to lose from your last pregnancy (so what if Eva is 16--you can't drop it overnight, you know!)from spilling out. Well, I checked out that rack and immediately got depressed. They looked like the suits my mom wears. She's 82. Enuf said.
So what rack do I find myself sifting through? THE FRICKIN' SWIM DRESSES!!! At first I am shocked into momentary paralysis. Am I really considering these? Is this what I'd been reduced to? A swim muumuu? But then I see a little Michael Kors number that is downright sexy. My mind is thinking, you look better in dresses than pants--and this is like a little miniskirt. Add a pair of cute little heels--scratch that--you're going to the beach--okay, add a pair of cute little flip flops and this might could work. Of course they don't have the little sexy number in my size, so, being a true believer in potential, I grab several and head to the dressing rooms.
The first two I tried on scared the hell out of me because when I looked in the mirror, that's right, I saw my mother. Trying not to get depress, I soldier on, eliminating the most matronly ones and holding on to the two "hey, this is kinda cute" suits. I alternated trying them on, not completely grossed out but not completely loving either one, and totally lamenting that the sexy little swim dress was not available (I swear if I see some size two chick in that suit next weekend...). But I also was feeling like if I could find the right one, I could own this look. This little swim dress idea had potential. Flirty, sexy, camouflaged potential!! Yeah baby!
So long story short. I did not buy a bathing suit today, but I am on the hunt. I did, however, purchase two adorable cover ups! Funny, how those always fit!
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Happy Independence Day!
We're all fighting to be independent, free-to-act-follow-my-own-truth women in at least one area of our lives. Well, in the wise words of '80's diva superstars, En Vogue, "Free your mind, and the rest will follow." Take a listen...and learn.
Happy Fourth of July. Declare your independence with a bang!
sensuality, shakespeare, sexy
declare your independence,
En Vogue,
fireworks,
fourth of July,
independent women
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