How to turn your angry feminism into peace

It was really hot that day, so I was walking around in my worn out hiking boots, tiny cowboy shorts and sports bra, when he came driving up the driveway. As he stepped out of his work truck I met his gaze and smiled at him cheekily as my response to his, “G’day” was: “Are you feeling hot, do you want to get wet?“. Standing with the water-hose in my hand, I was feeling ready to play in the hot sun – especially with a good-looking stranger. Laughingly with a touch of shyness behind his stormy sea-colored eyes, he politely turned down my offer, rationalizing that it might not be too smart to mix water and electricity, seeing as he was an electrician. “Right.. Gotcha!” I said with a big grin and put down the water-hose, to finish off my gardening. He was watching me from the corner of his eyes, smiling at me whenever our eyes interlocked from a distance, which made me want to chat to him. But I had work to do and so did he, so I simply enjoyed feeling the energy of flirtation stretching in between our space of unspoken words.

Have you seen the hot electrician?” I said to my 19-year old german work mate, who just shook her head and laughed at me: “God woman.. Is that all you think about. Leave the electrician alone.” Well.. I couldn’t. It was just too exciting, and I was just feeling too playful that day. And the fact that we were living deep in the country, with no male energies to play with, made it all a little more interesting. He was standing in the room where us wwoofers were sleeping, fixing something on the wall, when I came in to grab my iPod and hula hoops. I only had to give him an inviting smile before he started chatting me up. We spoke a little about this and that, things I don’t really remember, because I was feeling a bit too warm in his presence, and caught myself fantasizing about him pinning me against the wall. However his work needed attending, and I needed to leave him alone. But oh my.. The electrician definitely sparked some electricity, which I then used as fuel to go hula hooping like a mad woman, listening to Florence and the Machine.

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I looked at the electrician, thinking he was hot, I checked out his body thinking he looked strong and fit, I flirted with his gaze wanting him to check me out, wanting him to see me as something erotic too. I saw him as a sexual object before I thought of him as a person. Is that wrong? When a woman talks openly about things like this, some people might think, “what a slut” and had I been a man saying what I just did about a woman, I’d probably be classified as a sexist, a chauvinist. Certainly not by everyone, but definitely by some.

Lately I’ve met a lot of feminism and man-hate. Especially on social networks like Facebook. I saw this one video from HuffPost Women, showing a bunch of women of all ages, quoting sentences of subtle sexism they’d received from men throughout their lives. Sentences that men just wouldn’t hear in a lifetime. And to be honest it made me feel sorry for the male species. “stop being so dramatic“, “you’d be much prettier if you smiled”, “you’re so exotic, where are you from?” were just some of the sentences some of these women had found discriminating.

Is this for real!? Yes.. we women can be very dramatic, accept it. Yes.. we’re all a little prettier when we smile, accept it. Exotic… I don’t mind looking exotic – thank you.

– If this is all it takes to make some women feel discriminated, then how do you think some women (or men) would react if I had been a man, writing what I just did, about a woman? I’m sure the electrician wouldn’t have minded if I’d said this to him: “I’m sorry but I just can’t concentrate on what you’re saying, because you’re too sexy.” But how would you feel if someone said that to you? How would some feminists feel?

Hmm.. Perhaps some would feel disrespected. Like sex objects. Like their personalities meant nothing. How would I feel? I’d take it as a compliment. Why? Because I like being sexy. Because I know that my personality means everything. Because I know that I’m worth a lot in this world. Because I respect myself.

Fuck off Theresa, are you saying that these women don’t respect themselves? That’s exactly what they do! And that’s why they wouldn’t tolerate being spoken to like a piece of candy.

No.. It’s not what I’m saying. I’m merely pointing out that when you’re happy about yourself and who you are, very little in this world will knock you down, make you angry and push your buttons. Instead of pointing our sticky fingers at other people, be it men, women, religious believers, non-believers, smokers, homosexuals or whatever, we should point that dirty finger at ourselves and look inside. “Why am I getting so upset?” “Why do I feel offended by his/her remark?” “Where does the pain come from?”


Someone once said I was easy, and I felt hurt. Someone once grabbed my ass, and I felt disgusted. Someone once laughed at me when I spoke, and I felt silly. Someone once told me I was too much, and I wanted to be less. Yes, I’ve been hurt by the stinging word and actions of men, as well as women, but they helped me look inside, where I found the reason I got upset, was because I just wanted everyone to love me. And so the quest on loving myself began.

If we want world peace, we need to find peace within ourselves. And we certainly won’t find any peace unless we start looking to our hearts and stop blaming other people for our misery!


Loving smiles,

Theresa Johanne


Am I addicted to the rush of sexual energy?

I’ve been living in solitude on a farm for the last month, and haven’t really seen nor spoken to any men (that haven’t been above 50) for that same amount of time, which has actually been very relaxing and peaceful. However it wasn’t till four young blokes came to help with some sheep work yesterday, that I realised how much I’d missed feeling that buzzing, exciting and “getting red cheeks” feeling, that I often get when I find myself surrounded by young and attractive men.

I was supposed to help them tail docking some little lambs, though luckily they didn’t need my help (seeing as I’m not the roughest and toughest of women when it comes to animals), and so I simply just stood there patting the sheep dog Caine, while watching them do their thing. Blood came dripping down onto their big and hairy arms and hands as they tagged holes in the ears of the lambs, while chatting about football and sex. I felt myself feeling both a little repulsed and yet very attracted to the roughness of their “cave-men” behavior, and couldn’t really take my eyes off their big “I play a lot of rugby” looking bodies working fast and confidently.


Every time I’d lock eyes with this one guy in particular, who had these deep brown eyes, I felt myself turn pink, and had to catch my breath as to not start giggling like a little school girl. Feeling all feminine and fairy-ish I walked around in my dirty riding clothes smelling the leaves of the pine tree and plucking daisies off the grass, while the calls of a hundred sheep filled the air. I’d sometimes walk back to see if I could be of any help, which I mostly couldn’t, and then walk away again with a cheeky thought of wanting to be seduced by the young man with the bloodiest arms.

I started smiling to myself, as I fully enjoyed the energy that was flowing through my body, making me feel alive and vibrant in the spring sun, while my mind started filling itself with romantic and sexual thoughts. I was sitting on the back of the truck, when they all came over to wash their hands and arms with the antiseptic stuff that was standing next to me, and by watching the “bloodiest arm guy” trying to wash himself clean, I found myself wanting to reach over and touch his filthy arm… But I didn’t, because that would’ve been bit weird I reckon, and I’m not THAT impulsive!

Anyway.. They all said their goodbyes except for one, who asked me if I wanted to keep him company while slaughtering some sheep for dogfood. “Hah. Naaa, I don’t think so. I reckon’ I’m gonna go for a ride“, I politely told him with my new-found kiwi accent.

That same night I spoke to my mother on the telephone and told her all about my day, and of the looks and sizes of these South Island country boys. She laughed with me, and I could tell she was smiling as she said, “It must’ve felt so good to feel a bit feminine and womanly, surrounded by all those men.” And oh yes, it sure did! I love feeling like a woman. I love feeling all feminine and slippery and nymph-ish. It makes me feel alive and beautiful. It makes me feel sexual.

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Feeling feminine. Like a woman.

So to get back to this bloody arm scenario..  Is it just me, or is it in every womans nature to get turned on and attracted by the “cave-man” attitude??

I’ve never thought blood was sexy until yesterday. Well.. it’s not really sexy, but I guess it looked hot, because I subconsciously associated it with something rough. Or maybe I just dig blood, ha ha. Whatever the cause, it made me think.. What is it about warriors, fighting and strenght that I like? Why do these really masculine men attract me so much? What is it about big men, with big noses and big arms that gets me excited?

First off I think it’s a natural instinct that lies within me and probably a lot of other women too. An instinct that says; Here’s a big man who can protect me. Here’s a man that’ll be able to provide for me. Here’s a man that’s strong. Here’s a man that’ll give me healthy babies.. Ergo – here’s someone I could surrender to. Secondly I just feel very feminine in the company of a masculine man, which makes me feel beautiful and elegant, and very much like a cat in heat.

images (3) It was truly a nice experience to feel like a floating mermaid with big seductive puppy eyes and a wild mane of hair, wanting nothing more than to be looked at by the dangerous, yet amazingly appealing hunter. It made me realise how much I love feeling like a feminine woman and of how much I love flirting – just to get that rush of sexual energy.


As I lay in bed last night several thoughts popped into my mind.

1. I really like blokey blokes sometimes.
2. I love embracing my femininity and feeling like a woman.
3. Am I addicted to the rush of sexual energy?

My sexual energy can be very strong sometimes, and I freaking love feeling it overwhelm me with its presence, as it makes me feel high. I don’t have to act on it, and actually enjoy not acting on is, as it stays within me for a longer time, filling me with happiness and bubbles. So I’m definitely not a sex-addict. But I sometimes find myself creating a sexual energy with someone, just to get my fix, and then when I don’t feel the energy anymore I happily move on, leaving whoever I felt the connection with, with a feeling of “I thought we just shared something special.” So yes, I think I am a sexual energy addict. And then I wonder.. Is that a bad thing to be addicted to?

I guess it’s better than nicotine.

Loving smiles,

Theresa Johanne





And then I got a Yoni massage

The first time I encountered the word Yoni-massage was on the Island of Koh Phangang in Thailand, where I was going to do yoga for a month. I’d just left my boyfriend through four years, and was feeling vulnerable yet free, as I arrived at the yoga place with a gentle smile on my lips. I saw some women sitting beneath a palm tree and quickly tuned in on their conversation about orgasms, love, open relationships, chakras and Yoni-massages. “What’s a Yoni-massage?” I then asked with great wonder, having never heard of the word ‘Yoni’ before. I was quickly told, by an american woman with amazing green eyes, that a Yoni is a vagina, and that you could sign yourself up on a piece of paper and pay a professional to massage you. What!? I started laughing, but it was clearly not a joke and so I shut up, gave them a cheeky grin and said, “well, I’m not gonna pay anyone to massage my vagina, as I’ll find someone that’ll do it for free.

I remember thinking a lot about these pussy-massages, as I called them, and was really curious as to what they felt like. Then one day I heard some gossip about the “Indian Guru” Mukdananda giving out Yoni-massages for free, if only you’d go ask him personally. It didn’t take me long to sum up the courage to approach him with all my questions on the matter. What happens during the massage? What does it do me? Is it sexual? Why do you do it? He looked at me with tender brown eyes and told me, that the reason for the massage is not to give the woman an orgasm, but to awaken her own awareness of the depths of her sexuality. Furthermore he told me; “women tend to store many suppressed emotions inside the vagina, which can then be released through the massage. Therefore some women often end up feeling vulnerable and teary during or after the session.”

All of this was turning out to be very interesting, so I asked him if he’d give me one – which he’d love to. Uhhh.. I was really excited and pretty nervous when he, a couple of days later, came on his little scooter, picked me up and drove me to his comfy bungalow. He was a really nice man, and had I felt the slightest bit uncomfortable with him, I’d never gone with him. Anyway… He told me how the session was going to unfold, and that he for the first hour would massage my whole body from top to toe, without touching my private parts, as it was really important, that my body was open and relaxed before starting the massage itself. After that he would slowly start touching me more intimately and gradually increase the speed of his movements, which might give me a feeling of having to urinate, and if that was the case, I was to take deep breaths, release and let go.


Right, I should be able to do this“, I thought to myself as I then took off all my clothes and lay down on a bed, that was covered with multiple white sheets and a towel. He smiled at me reassuringly, while he found three different bottles of scented oils and started massaging my feet. “Should I close my eyes?” I gently asked him. “You just do whatever makes you feel comfortable, but most women close their eyes, yes.” I felt completely relaxed as I lay there feeling my whole body being touched with awareness and skill, and slowly, as his hands moved closer to my vagina, I started breathing with anticipation and remember thinking; “I hope he touches my clitoris” – but he didn’t. He touched my vagina as it had never been touched before. It felt like he was exploring a cave, where he had to press, push and stimulate ever single part of it on his way into its depths.

Sometimes my thoughts took over the sensations that were flowing in my body, and when they did I’d try to focus on my breathing. I knew that nothing was expected of me. I wasn’t supposed to orgasm. I wasn’t supposed to do anything but merely surrender and feel. Knowing that I was  a”client” made it a lot easier for me, to let go of my thoughts and come back to being present.

As he increased the power of his movements, I felt a little burning pain in my vagina and remember thinking, that it didn’t feel so nice. However after a little while the pain subsided, and then the only thing I could feel was, that I had to pee. Wow, I really had to pee. But I remembered what he’d said to me earlier, and even though it was hard, I let go and thought to myself;”Theresa, then pee. Just let go and do it.” And so I did.. What happened next was crazy..

All sensation from my vagina seemed to disappear, as the only thing I felt, was the blood streaming through every part of my body. My breathing sped up and my head seemed to fill up with black fog, as my jaw got stuck with tension. I wasn’t aware of where I was being touched anymore, as my body just seemed to be flowing with pounding streams of energy, that then made my lower arms and hands feel stuck to my body like a connecting piece of wire. My throat was burning, my back arched and my head shoot back as I inhaled and exhaled with great force.

Ok, I think your Yoni has had enough“, Mukdananda then said to me, and with my jaw still feeling stuck I murmored; “Yes, I think so too..” He smiled at me, while I was lying there looking like a T-Rex dinosaur, and grinningly said; “It’s ok, you can move your body“. But see.. I really didn’t feel like I could, and so I lay there for a couple of moments more, still panting, as I realized that the whole bed was wet. “Did I squirt?” I asked, having no idea about what had just happened. “Woman, did you squirt?! Look at my arms, look at the bed. This isn’t from the oil, it’s all from you,” he said with a soft laugh. I felt a bit shy and giggled softly, as I then tried to get up and go to the toilet, but my legs felt like jelly, so I had to hold onto the wall.

My friend maddy and I posing the T-Rex yoni massage move.

My friend maddy and I posing the T-Rex yoni massage move.

When I sat down on the toilet, trying to pee, I felt like I’d just been shot into the Universe where I met aether, who took me for a spin before pushing me down onto earth again. Yes, it was a pretty intense experience, which felt like nothing I’d EVER felt before..

Before my meeting with the tantric yoga school I wasn’t aware of the depths of my own sexuality. I liked sex and orgasms, sure. But I’d never thought of my sexuality as something deeper, something powerful. I’d never experienced a bodily orgasm before, which was part of what’d happened to me. It wasn’t until I flew back to Denmark, that I realized what an effect the massage had made on me. Not only did it plant a seed, that made me think much more about my sexuality, it also opened up a gate from deep within, that made me more conscious about feeling my whole body instead of just focusing on my vagina.

I haven’t made a ritual of getting Yoni-massages, far from it. However I’m grateful for my experience and often think back on it with a smile. I know it might seem very taboo-breaking and frightening to let someone (that’s not your lover) touch your vagina, but personally I feel like it was a stepping stone to my own personal growth. So if you’ve been thinking about getting such a massage, or have any interest in getting a closer connection to your own sexuality, or have any physical or psychical problems with your vagina, I reccomend trying it.

I can’t tell you what you’ll experience or feel from it, however I can tell you what I felt and experienced – and so I did.

Loving Smiles,

Theresa Johanne



Do men just want sex?

I’m currently living on a sheep farm on the South Island of New Zealand, where I help out with riding their young horses. Life is pretty simple here and there’s not much interest in deep or spiritual talks, which can both be a blessing and a curse for a lover of depth such as myself. However, the other day as I was sitting in the old brown kitchen eating my meat stew (yes, there’s no way of being a vegetarian here) I tuned in and opened up for an interesting talk with the old-fashioned sheep farmer Lawrie. He said, with his deep and heavy New Zealand accent, that he felt quite sorry for women now a days, because men only seemed to want one thing. SEX. And that they would just walk up to a woman, after a few beers, and ask her; “Do you wanna fuck?” – he knew this because it had happened to a young woman he knows.

Hmm.. Yes, that’s a bit disrespectful, however at least it’s straight to the point“, I told him with a grin. I thought about it for a moment and shook my head as I said; “Strange.. That’s never happened to me. I’ve never had someone walk up to my face and ask me that.” And then I wondered.. What would I feel if it happened to me?

downloadThe farmer continued his talk about dating sites such as Tinder (that he first thought was a chip of wood) and spoke again of how young people (mostly boys) only want to have sex, and how hard it must be to find a partner. I looked at him with understanding and agreed some with him, but then said: “You know.. I sometimes feel sorry for men because they get put into a ‘thinking with the dick’ box, when all they want too, is to find a mate. Essentially it’s what we all want.” And so I told him a little story:

I was out teaching an 8th grade in sexual education, when my partner and I divided the boys and girls into two groups, and made them write down (as a group) 5 questions they wanted answered about the opposite sex. The girls thought that the boys only wanted sex, because of their often inappropriate conversations about tits and porn, and so one of their questions was: Do you just want sex, or also love? Another question for the boys was: What do you look for in a girl? When we got the reply back from the boys I couldn’t help but smile, as I read aloud to the girls: 1) “The boys have answered that they not JUST want sex, but also love. They want the whole package.” 2) “That they find it attractive when a girl has enough confidence to be who she is, without trying to be someone else.

It was amazing to witness the looks of awe on these young teenage girls, as their thoughts of the opposite sex slowly changed into something more soft. Yes… all men want love, just like us women. And you’d think that all grown up people would know that by now, but I still meet women, and men apparently, that talk shit about men only wanting one thing – to put their dicks where ever they please. And well.. It’s starting to annoy me a bit, because I meet guys all the time, that deeply and sincerely just want to find love. None of us are perfect and sometimes men think too much with their penises, however sometimes women think too much about EVERYTHING.

Some men have not treated women very nicely, I agree to that. Some men just want sex and nothing else. Some men do think they’re better than women, and actually get a kick out of patronising them in different ways, yes. And I could continue the list of things, that some men have done or do. However I’m not writing an essay here, and frankly I don’t care what some men do, because some women do or have done all those things too! Heck, I think I’ve hurt my share of guys from thinking I liked them, to then throwing them out like garbage or merely used them for physical needs. And I bet there’s at least one guy out there who holds a grudge, because I hurt his feelings – Just like you might hold a grudge, because someone hurt your feelings!

But no person is the same and thankfully we all have different personalities.  So when all comes to all, we really shouldn’t judge people and put labels on them, because we’ve heard of or experienced something that made us feel hurt, angry, irritated or sad. There’s always two sides to a story, so try to stay open enough to let the other one be there too. We are all unique and we all want love – it’s natural.


Now, to answer my wondering: If a guy was to come up to me and say; “Do you wanna fuck? I’d probably laugh at his straight-forwardness and say;” No, but thanks for the offer“, and then walk away, still grinning, with a possible feeling of admiration, while thinking; “At least he was honest about what he wanted”. I know it sounds disrespectful, but I wouldn’t see it as a personal offence in any way, as I am very aware of my own worth. If you know of your own worth and love who you are, there are very few things that’ll push your buttons.


Loving smiles,

Theresa Johanne


Do you ever finger your man?

I don’t think I’ll ever put a finger up someones ass.” I once told my sister many years ago, who beamed a big smile as she agreed with me. “I could do it if I wore gloves though”, she then added and we both started giggling..


But I got older and about two years ago I did finger a man… without gloves. We were lying in my bed, cuddling and kissing when things took another turn and got a little hot. As he was close to ejaculating, he stammered with his half swedish accent; “Put your finger in my ass.” I remember feeling a sudden rush of anxiety of having to push my limit a little further and felt like a virgin all over again. But I licked on my finger and slowly tried to find his hole. You might be thinking, how hard can it be? Well, for someone that’s never touched a guy around that area before, it wasn’t a piece of cake, especially because this guy seemed to have a particular small asshole.

Aha, there it was! I was lingering around the outskirts of the hole, touching him lightly and careful feeling a bit scared to enter, when he took my hand and pushed my finger inside him. Uh, he really liked that, and I discovered, that it was just like putting a finger up my own ass, warm and soft but very tight and a little more hairy. I was trying to find his prostate but really had no clue as to how far up it was, when he started telling me what to do with my finger – perfect, thank you! – I felt a sensation of relief the moment he took control over the finger-in-the-ass situation, that I just wasn’t familiar with, and minute or so later he yelled out in ectasy and collasped on top of me.

I was seeing this guy for quite a while, and very quickly became accustomed to sticking my finger up his ass. It never came out dirty or smelly, and he really seemed to love it, so I felt good about doing it. And it now feels like a very normal thing to do if the guy wants it.

Most people know about the womans G-spot, but not nearly as many are aware of the fact, that men also have a sort of G-spot, which is found inside their anus and is called the prostate. The prostate is situated 4-7 cm inside the anus and can be found when you press your finger a bit upwards towards the belly, it’s about the size of a walnut and also feels a bit like one.


There’s around 10.000-12.000 nerveendings around the rectum, which makes that whole area unbelievably erogenous. Many men have described their prostate – or anal orgasm to be deeper and more intense than a “normal” orgasm from penis stimulation.

Unfortunately many men still have a problem with getting their rectums touched, as they consciously or subconsciously connect it with being “gay”. I’ve met men who almost started freaking out if I wanted or tried to play with that part of their body, therefore I think all men should try to experiment with their anus by themselves or with someone they feel completely relaxed with. It’s important that we embrace the body we were given and play with all the sensations that comes from touching it, as it brings us closer to connecting with ourselves and makes us feel more comfortable with who we are.

The anus is just another part of your body. Embrace and play with it, because you might like it.



Loving smiles,

Theresa Johanne


How do you touch your lover?

The first time I touched a flaccid penis, in a non-sexual way, was probably about a year ago. I was lying in my bed and really felt like I wanted to give my lover some intimate affection, so I said to him: “I want to massage your penis, and the only thing you have to do is relax and feel my touch. There’s no goal, I’m not gonna try to make you cum’, I just want to give you some love.” I slowly started caressing and massaging his penis. I was studying it, kissing it, making friends with it, just like it was the hand of my lover, that I had held so much. At one point I stopped, smiled and cuddled up next to him. He looked at me with such tender love, and spoke of how vulnerable and special he had felt during the massage, because no one had ever touched his penis, without an expectation of it leading into something sexual, before.

It’s not often that our genitals are  touched by another person in a non-sexual way, and when they are it’s often by a doctor of some sorts. About 2-3 years ago I wouldn’t even have thought of massaging someones flaccid penis, without the purpose of giving him sexual pleasure or wanting it myself. Back then the penis was merely a symbol and tool for sexual activities and not a vulnerable organ. It’s not a common thing, to talk about the floppy penis and many men feel a bit conscious about showing it off and even more conscious about the woman caressing it, because; “Aww.. Is she expecting me to get hard? What if I can’t?” – I think some men feel a certain pressure of having to perform, and for this reason we need to step up our game as women, lovers, girlfriends and wives and give the floppy penis and our man a little more attention.  Not because we want to have sex or make him cum, but because we want to give him some deep womanly affection, that will create a stronger bond between us.  We would love it, if they did it to us, right? I know I would.

I’d like you to befriend my vagina“, I told an amazing man the other day. He smiled at me with a shy grin on his face, and I went; “No, I mean, I really want you to look, touch and just play with her. Get to know her. It doesn’t have to be sexual” Because both of us knew, that there was no other goal to the affection, than to be present and discover new parts of each other, it made everything much more enjoyable. He didn’t feel any pressure of having to make me orgasm, and I felt no pressure to reach one. Our open way of communicating took away all thoughts, which allowed me to be completely present in my body. The scene turned sexual, I felt myself letting go and actually ended up getting a new sort of orgasm – from gentle stimulation of the vaginal entrance/opening – because I was so in tune, with what my body was telling me.

I would probably not have experienced a new orgasm, or felt my heart and body open to this man, had we not communicated openly. I love speaking freely about my needs, desires and feelings, because it frees me from the chains in my mind. I think we all have a tendency, to get stuck in our own thoughts during sexual activities sometimes,  but a simple sentence as, “I don’t expect anything of you, I just want to feel you.” Or, “let’s loose all goals, I don’t need to ejaculate or orgasm.“can make everything so much more enjoyable, because it takes out the worry of not being able to perform.

I feel like it’s worth thinking about, how we touch our lovers. Do we always have an agenda with our touching? Do we want to make them cum, because it will glorify our own ego? Are we present when we touch, or are we stuck in our mind?

Our genitals are sensitive, vulnerable and delicate –  therefore we need to give them some extra special affection, that has nothing at all to do with our own egos need to satisfy the other. So let’s practise giving without receiving and receiving without giving – I know I will.

Loving smiles,

Theresa Johanne



Is it important to masturbate?

Growing up with a bunch of siblings a great deal of love and a whole lot of catholic messages, sexuality and sex became a taboo in my home. Feelings such as shame walked side by side with words like sex and masturbation, which meant that I seldom masturbated as a teenager. When I as a 19 year old got my first boyfriend and had never had an orgasm, I accepted it as a part of me. I was probably just one of those women that couldn´t (they existed, I’d read in a magazine).

Sex… I liked that, and it turned me on, to turn him on. My confidence quickly rose, and ironically enough sex became a very big part of my personality, even though I didn’t really know my own sexuality. During sex I wasn’t able to relax properly, since I’d think more about what he liked, how I looked or if it was good for him, than to feel what was good for me. I remember in the beginning of my sexual debut and some years onward, I couldn’t stand to get my vagina licked, because I knew he wanted me to come, and well… I couldn’t. No, he should just stop so I could give him a blowjob instead.

With all this being said I still thought I’d had an orgasm – until I got one! After breaking up with my boyfriend and having read somewhere that all women are love and orgasmic creatures, it became my life mission to reach an orgasm, which I was (almost) sure would happen. Mission masturbation became alive, but geez… it was hard work to start out with. Thoughts came streaming in from all sides and ankles, which made it really difficult for me to feel the sensations in my body. I allowed myself to take small breaks and would slowly start touching myself again, once I, with the help of my breathing and consciousness, got the feeling back in my body and about two hours later I’d  finally gotten my first orgasm. Ahhh… That was nice. So nice, that I actually started masturbating three times a day, until I really started to know myself and how my body worked. Practice makes a champion, and after enough masturbation I could make myself come in 10 minutes or less. My feeling of self-worth rose to the sky; I turned on the charm and felt ready to meet a guy. Though after one night in the sack I’d think: “Oh… That was that. I would have gotten much more out of being alone with my almond oil, pink dildo and my clitoris.” These thoughts didn’t last long, but gave birth to another mission – to reach orgasms during sex.

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