Tag Archives: tantric sex

Sex with Women Under and On Water



G and I were having drinks in Philadelphia at the home of a highly spirited, delightful, wealthy dowager and old friend who’s in her early 80’s. She had just finished reading the Casanova book and criticized us for just mentioning G’s experience with women under water and not on it.

In the book, except for the scene where a ballsy contessa unzipped G’s zipper under the Bridge of Sighs or Ponte di Sospiri in Venice and dabbled with his pecker while tourists looked on, he describes only two scenes with women in water; one in a huge bath tub with a French Canadian woman who poured copious amounts of champagne on him as part of foreplay and the other in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Coral Gables in Florida. He also has had other under water experiences with about six others which he didn’t write about. G found underwater sex a huge sexual downer disappointment. He says the guy does all the work struggling to stand up and hold his balance while, at the same time, holding the gal firmly by her cheeks- the rear end ones- so she won’t sink while he’s pumping away. She, buoyed by the water, effortlessly spreads her legs around the guy and relaxes with a smile on her face while he does all the work. He said it reminds him of the Tantric and Taoist ladies and how they have all the fun when copulating. For example, in Taoist China, a woman’s vital energy of ch’i needed to be constantly recharged by a man’s sexual energy. Tantra goddesses were all over India where the women gave energy to the man during sexual intercourse. In both of these religions, it’s a sacred duty for the man to hold off his ejaculation for as long as possible- and even to surrender it- while the ladies lay on their backs enjoying multiple orgasms. Those Oriental goddesses, probably created by women or men under their influence, certainly did a great snow job in brainwashing the poor guys. Imagine an American male, as a way of life, feeling guilty for having an orgasm before the woman does. Just imagine!

Getting back to the dowager: She asked him about his amorous experiences on the water on boats. He said he had a few lovely ones on cruises or in cabins of moderate size boats. When he began to describe the scenes she abruptly interrupted him and said, “No! No! I mean on the deck, not in the cabin, or on a row boat or even a canoe without a roof where, for example, you’re on the water with a beautiful sky above you and you can hear the soothing sound of the water and maybe even the surf, if you’re not too far away from the shore. I’m talking about when the beauty of nature romantically adds to the pleasure of love making as it would in the forest.”

G gave me a funny look, and I sensed he was uncomfortable. But then he turned to her and said, “Laura, can I be truthful or should I shut up for you may be disappointed in what I have to say?” With a broad smile she replied, “G, you don’t have to tell me. You’re not a roofless boat assman. Right?” “Not quite, but three episodes jump to mind and there are others with similar outcomes.

“The first was when I had an apartment at Marina Del Rey in California. One of my neighbors, a nice guy, took us- me and my date- out on his boat on a moonlit night. When we arrived in deep water we lowered a raft after which I rowed for a couple of minutes. She puffed on her marijuana weed, and it must have been strong stuff for she undressed and was all over me within a couple of minutes. While on her back she had a tough time finding a comfortable position because of limited space and a hard floor which most of these boats are like. Though they are on water they ain’t, let me tell you, waterbeds! Then the boat began to shake a little and she screamed, “G, it’s a shark! Take me back to the boat!” I happily obeyed and went straight to the cabin to finish the affair. No sharks but just a king size bed.

“The second happened in the Caribbean on a canoe on a beautiful sunny day. Love time had arrived and the lady – by the way, I would rate as extremely sensual so my pipes were steaming hot- lay on her back but she couldn’t get comfortable. She complained but finally found a position that she could handle and I could be able to perform though the positions for both of us were lousy. As soon as I started making vigorous moves the boat began to shake back and forth and she, being afraid, said, “G. you’re going to tip the boat if you keep it up, and I’m not a great swimmer.” And boy was she thankful when I told her we were going back to land. And so was I!

“There’s a very small, private island off the coast of Calabria in Italy with a single restaurant nestled in the side of a hill with lots of trees and shrubs that used to be one of my favorite destinies. On one of my trips I hired a motor boat and took off with a lady who rarely made demands and was comfortable to be with. It was a beautiful day and on the way we consumed a bottle of wine. I anchored the boat and we watched the dolphins leap out of the water beside our boat. And did she look sultry which called for whoopee time. We disrobed and placed the featherless thin as can be pillows we had on the cramped flat hard spaces on the boat. She unsuccessfully squirmed to get into a comfortable position and, evidently her butt hit a protruding bolt and she shouted out, “Ouch!” As our sex ritual was about to begin she- and I’ll never forget those eyes- almost pleaded, ‘G, isn’t this ridiculous? This position is ridiculous particularly when there’s a romantic restaurant waiting for us with wonderful food and wine and a comfortable place to take a nap.’ So up went the anchors and I, happy as a pig in shit, opened the throttle and went full speed ahead toward the island.

“Now I’m testing my memory, but I don’t remember any woman asking me to switch positions with me being on the bottom in order to continue. I, myself, did think of it a couple of times but decided to stay silent for reasons I’m sure you understand.

“Laura, over the years I’ve discussed this sex-roofless- boat scenario with a number of men and, maybe with the exception of a few young bulls, all prefer to make love in a comfortable boat cabin.”

Then naughty Laura, sipping on her beloved champagne periodically during the day as Winston Churchill used to do, surprised the crap out of us. Out of nowhere she said, “G, in the book you discussed detailed ways on which to make love to parts of a woman’s body such as the breast and clitoris but you don’t do it with women’s rear ends. Yes, you discuss it somewhat, but not in detail. As a favor, in your next post I want you to describe in detail how you do or did it.”

The way in which she requested it was a classic female technique which women use and which men find it almost impossible to refuse. Bottom line, she knew G would carry out her wish. G, leaning forward and gently squeezing her forearm, answered, “Your wish is my command.” He paused and then, with a broad challenging smile, asked, “Laura, at your age are you still having sexual fantasies?”

Laura smiled back and remained silent.


G and The Big Sur Taoist Gal – Chapter from The Man Who Made Love to More Women Than Casanova

Tao photo

Poor Guy! Sacrificing His Yang for Her Yin!


“It happened at Big Sur in California, where I gave a talk on my work. After the talk, I was approached by a very tall and attractive Eurasian lady who had lots of questions about my presentation. It was late in the afternoon, and martini time had arrived, so I asked if we could continue our conversation in the bar lounge. I was pretty sure that she would order a drink like club soda with a lemon spritz. I was wrong. She joined me with a martini. She was a very bright lady and handled herself with a subtle air of superiority. Not that she was a snob or anything like that, but her manner of speech and body language sent out a message that she was on a higher level than the average woman. After our session, we shook hands and parted ways. I showed no interest in seeing her again, and that was the truth.

My father used to tell me that there’s a time and a place for everything and quoted Ecclesiastes: ‘For everything there is a season.’ That night, my season was to be alone. Mind you, I might not have even succeeded in wooing her even to dinner. I’ve been turned down many times in my lifetime, and it usually doesn’t bother me at all—if ever. The more you desire a woman, the more difficult it is to handle her rejection. Take a lesson from Buddha!

I had planned to attend the morning session of the conference the next day and was booked on a flight back to New York later that afternoon. That morning, while I was in the pre-conference breakfast room, in walked the Eurasian. She looked stunning, and I immediately wondered how much time she’d spent preparing herself for her impressive entrance. Many of the guys couldn’t take their eyes off of her. I, as usual, turned my back to her and began reading the conference program. I can’t tell you why, but I had a hunch that she wanted to speak with me. And my intuition was correct. I was the guy that she was looking for. I wondered why she had dressed-to-kill for our encounter.

She tapped me on the shoulder, and here’s how it went. She told me she’d thought about our discussion and had come up with a commercial idea but wanted my help in putting together a business plan, because of my knowledge of a particular market. While speaking, she layered on a healthy but subtle dose of body-language sensuality, and let me tell you, she was very good at it. Then came the surprise. She lived near Big Sur and invited me to her home for dinner that night to further discuss her business plan. She told me she was not a great cook but hoped I would be happy with her culinary skills. Well, Lorenzo, what would you have done if you were in my shoes? Cancel the flight, right?”

“You bet your life. I wouldn’t even rebook until the night was over and I knew whether there would be another day, which is unusual for me.”

“When she opened the door, what I saw was a temporary vision of pure, sensual beauty.”

“G, what do you mean by ‘temporary’?”

“Because she very, very especially made herself up for the evening, and the next morning, her beauty would be markedly diminished. Get it? Anyway, she wore a white hanging kimono that draped down to her ankles, with marvelous slits that showed her legs and just-right views of her breasts. She puzzled me when she said that a martini would not be appropriate for that evening. That turned on my antennae that this was not going to be a normal evening, and I knew the business plan might never be discussed, let alone mentioned. We began with red Bordeaux, and then a very complicated and intriguing evening was launched, but I’ll make the story short. She was, would you believe, a bona fide Taoist.

Taoism is an old Chinese philosophy that concerns itself a lot with sex. Briefly put, it deals with yin and yang and sexual energy. A man’s yang, not his wang—ha-ha!—is in his semen, but there’s a limited supply. A woman’s yin, which is contained in her vaginal fluids, is limitless and is the fuel to increase a man’s vital energy.

So these clever Taoist women convinced the naive male that he should withhold his ejaculation and orgasm for as long as possible so he could absorb the energy from the yin of her vaginal secretions while she had her orgasms and enjoyed herself.

I surprised her when I told her I knew something about Taoism, and it was a privilege to meet my first practicing member. I wanted to add that she shouldn’t expect a marathon from me, however, because my yang was okay and in no need of help, but I didn’t. Suddenly, I observed that there were no pots or pans on the stove, which further increased my curiosity about what this lady was up to. She must have read my mind, and she brought a plate of assorted appetizers and placed it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She disappeared for a moment and returned with, would you believe, a water pipe—and asked me to join her in puffing. Though I hadn’t the slightest idea of what I would be puffing, I decided to go along, even though I was aware that it might limit my yang’s ability to increase her yin or the other way around.

Well, I smoked the stuff, and it really hit my brain. It not only made my genitals more sensitive but also caused the stem to arise. Also, it made her look more sensual than before, which is saying a lot. She slowly escorted me to her bed, and I managed to, after a long session, increase her yin without releasing my yang. After that, we stretched out in bed, side by side, and I still felt somewhat relaxed and concluded that sex for the night was over and I would shortly call a cab after my head cleared.

She suddenly placed her body on top of mine. The intense warmth I felt was both unexpected and welcomed. She then went to the living room and brought back the pipe to the bedside. I really wasn’t in the mood, but when a sensual Eurasian lady says to you, ‘Smoke a little more, for it’s my turn,’ who the hell could refuse such an offer? We took a couple of puffs, and the relaxation effect on me was pretty strong. It, however, energized her big time. We embraced, not hugged, for a while. She artfully and slowly massaged my genitals and created a crescendo type of stimulation like the Tantric ladies are reputed to do. Frankly speaking, I was a little bit worried about my heart, for it was racing a mile a minute.

She continued with one of the greatest performances of oral sex that I’d encountered, and the orgasm could not have been more sublime!

Needless to say, we never got around to her business plan. I, shaky as I was, managed to leave during the middle of the night and, like with most of the others, never saw her again.”

“G, you mentioned Tantric sex. What the hell is that?”

To be continued in the next chapter – “G and The Tantric Gal”
shutterstock_106774478%20[Converted][1].jpg Image #16 Tantric Gal

The Vagina Whisperer by Endorfina

“Yoni” is the ancient Hindu Sansrit word for vagina.

I have always loved the verb “to whisper”, especially when spoken in French and Italian. The word in French is “chuchoter” (shoe-show- tay) and in Italian “susurrare” (sue-sue- rar-a). Both pronunciations truly are sexy whispers in themselves.

The modern use of the word whisperer, however, does not necessarily involve whispering. It first appeared as a general therapeutic method in the movie The Horse Whisperer, directed by and starring Robert Redford. He plays a talented trainer with a remarkable gift for understanding horses. He is hired to help both an injured teenager and her horse back to physical and mental health after a tragic accident. He communicates with them softly and slowly and the ending is a happy one. It was a heartwarming story and a big box office success. It placed the word whisperer on the global radar screen.

The connotation of a therapeutic healing whisperer continued with National Geographic Wild’s popular reality television series featuring trainer Cesar Millan’s work with troubled dogs. He was dubbed the Dog Whisperer and was highly praised for his efforts in helping man’s best friend. By the way, a woman’s best friend is usually a cat. The cat pet population for women has now exceeded the dog one for man!

Last month I heard the term the Vagina Whisperer for the first time and was highly intrigued. What is a Vagina Whisperer? Katie Couric interviewed Ellen Dolgen, a prominent woman’s health and wellness advocate. Her husband nicknamed her The Vagina Whisperer because of the therapeutic advice she gives to women from her blog and her website. She is the weekly host of Menopause Mondays where she combines interactive humor on a variety of sexual topics, hence her nickname. She created an entertaining video, “A Singing Uterus Explains Perimenopause and Menopause” to educate women about symptoms and solutions for dealing with menopause.

This humorous video reminded me a bit of Bette Midler belting out her ballad about Otto Titslinger and the invention of the brassiere in her movie Beaches. Visit my Mammary Memoir post to enjoy her performance!

The idea of a woman as a Vagina Whisperer seemed a bit strange to me. My personal take on this term was to imagine a sexy man whispering seductively to me. I would prefer to have a “mature” Sean Connery, my favorite James Bond, as my vagina whisperer.

The Urban Dictionary’s definition is 1) a person able to talk themselves into any girl’s pants and 2) a lesbian. The female host on the Candy Diaries website pulled no punches declaring “No matter if it’s a look, a touch or a kiss your vagina instantly responds. He’s a Vagina Whisperer. He’s one of those very few men that can talk your vag off a ledge!”

Lady Gaga has another take on the word. She proclaimed herself a vagina whisperer because she listens to the musings of her own vagina for her creative attire and musical inspiration. In an interview with Howard Stern she explained “Whatever my vagina whispers to me, I say: “Yes, inspiration! It doesn’t come all the time.”

In his fascinating chapter about the ancient Hindu practice of tantric sex, G describes the sensual ritual between the yoni (vagina) and the lingam (penis).

I also discovered term Penis Whisperer during my whisper research. Definitions range from a seductive female lover, a male homosexual or a men’s health educator. Read what Lorenzo and G have written about women in this provocative category “Can a Woman Learn to Be a Lover? What Does G Have to Say?”


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