My Solo Anal Play Yielded Profound Personal Growth and Liberating Spiritual Sexual Healing

 

Playing with my butt has been one of the most revealing personal growth experiences I’ve ever had.

Am I saying that anal sex is a spiritual practice? Well, I guess I am. But that depends on how you approach it.

Recognizing that certain sex acts vault me to higher sexual orbits is what prompted this exploration where the sun don’t normally shine. (I wrote about this a couple weeks ago in my blog post entitled “Sexual Energy Orbits: How to Catapult Yourselves up to the Most Sensational Pleasure Zones.”)

Even though I know that personal freedom is an inner journey, I’ve been expanding myself through spiritual sex for nearly twenty years now. It’s taught me more about myself than all talk therapies in the world combined. So how exactly does that work?

Spiritual sex means to be aware of your body, mind, and soul while you accept your sexual desires and act on them fully.

Let’s Get Drunk And Screw

Being a somewhat evolved horny guy, I’m not against the age-old relationship axiom — “Let’s get drunk and screw.” Today that probably shows up more as “Let’s get stoned and make divine love.”

But for me erotic play is so much richer when I’m conscious of everything that’s happening. Then I can steer the action so I get everything I want while I’m attending to my partner’s needs and wants. Often I get new pleasures that I didn’t expect.

My whole life I’ve sought to rid myself of inhibitions. Maybe, like so many other teenagers, that’s an outgrowth of rebelling against my father’s authority. Whatever.

What I found in my recent solo anal play is that I’ve got hangups I didn’t know were limiting my fun.

Me squeamish? Seriously?

I can’t begin to count how many times I believed that I arrived only to find how much more there was to look at. With my unshakable self-image, I was sure I could handle unlimited pleasure. At least until I bumped up against the edge of my comfort zone and found my own limits.

So again and again I dedicated myself to practice until I released “all” resistance. Usually it wasn’t long before I had to pick myself up and realize how much more inner work awaited me.

The Sensible Hygiene Of Anal Play

A case in point is the hygiene of anal play. As my sex life has been expanding in recent years, I’ve welcomed any gentle-at-first penetration back there from lovers I trust. Lovers who are as fun and fastidious as I am.

Damn, I’ve had so much pleasure when they put things in my butt: fingers, toys, and vajras (penises).

But I discovered that I’m reluctant to put my own fingers in my butt.

Really?

Any young woman whose mother taught her not to wipe forward realizes we all want to keep the bacteria from the rosetta (asshole) away from the yoni (vagina). Or either gender’s mouth for that matter.

Such programming was a critical part of my Tantric sexual healing that opened up my backdoor initially. Tight-assed is more than a social slur, it’s a diagnosis of the energy blockages that inhibited lovers and people in general have.

When the issues are in the tissues, especially around the rosetta, they restrict one’s sexual freedom and lots more.

You see, I love to play full out without inhibitions. That’s partly a result of my robust libido. But even more so it stems from the personal growth I’ve done around becoming more sex-positive.

Damn Those Restrictive Inner Rules

So, as I was saying, what I found was that I had all sorts of inner rules about where I could put my hands when playing with myself. When I lube up a sex toy and slide it in my butt, undoubtedly that hand gets contaminated with the kind of germs we don’t want to spread.

My Tantric training, or call it conscious sexuality, included always being alert to what one touches with those dirty digits. That’s wise to avoid later unwanted infections. But when I got an urge to, for example, add my second hand to massage my cockhead, I heard a loud “No!” from my inner critic.

Since I can’t put my vajra in my mouth in my most limber moments, there was no chance of making myself sick. And since this was solo play, there was no chance of infecting my beloved’s yoni. And yet I was unwilling to follow my whims and play with whatever part of my body wanted attention.

That’s where spiritual sex came to the rescue. It’s all about witnessing what’s going on in my body, mind, and soul while I’m reveling in pleasure. Not only was I conscious of what I wanted to do to myself, I was also conscious of what was holding me back.

So I lubed up my second hand and slowly slid it in and out of my rosetta. Wow, was it great! It supercharged the pleasure that my other hand was creating by stroking my vajra.

It felt so good that after a while I got the urge to grab vajra’s head with my dirty hand. Sure enough the injunction was still there. I looked at and decided there was no harm as long as I washed up afterwards.

As a result, for a few minutes I had the most ecstatic two-handed masturbation you can imagine.

Letting My Freak Flag Fly

What I was discovering was that my self-pleasuring habits followed well-worn grooves. These were uninspected patterns that limited what I would let myself enjoy.

I thought I was a devoted disciple of the spirit of David Crosby’s song “Almost Cut My Hair” which advocated letting my freak flag fly.

One of the things all my Tantric sex ebooks advocate is whimsy. That’s recognizing when you’ve got a whim and acting on it. Like you want to switch from the top to the bottom or the reverse while making love. Or pull out and lick the juices from your coupling or swivel around to enjoy some luscious 69. Or play with yourself while you’re going at it.

Honor your whims instantly is the secret to fully letting yourself go. Sexual energy is a continuous river of potential pleasure. Let yourself go with the flow and passion engulfs you.

My inner blockages to my own whims created mental grooves that restricted my sexual freedom. When a whim surfaced, I would ignore it without even considering it. My old worn-out beliefs were blindly blocking my consciousness at decision points.

That’s exactly what happened when I got the urge to use both hands to stroke my cock but one had just been in my rosetta.

When a lover is passionately steaming down the road towards a Big O, they rarely notice what happens at these pleasure crossroads.

Like when the vibrator that I was sitting on which felt great a moment ago stopped generating pleasure. This was a crossroads. The thought occurred to me to lube it up and shove it inside my butt. I was sure I had loosened up enough so that I could take it and love it even more.

But instead of going for it, instead of following my bliss in the moment, my puritan programming blocked it.

We all seek balance in life. I thought I was operating with a good balance between pleasure and cleanliness. But I realized I was a victim of my own overly hygienic fastidiousness.

Now I’m not into deep psychoanalysis that drives me to figure out why I was inhibited. Just witnessing what I’m doing gives me the choice to change. So seeing how I was limiting my options for pleasure allowed me to change my habits.

Different Than a Sudden Flash of Clarity

This didn’t happen like a sudden flash of clarity. It evolved in stages. First, I let my fingers have their way with my rosetta. But at first I was still uncomfortable using that hand for anything else. So I decided it would be OK to play with my balls while my other hand was busy sliding up and down my shaft.

Next I realized there was really no harm in using the contaminated hand on my vajra as well. It wasn’t going anywhere dangerous. So I had fun for a while enjoying some two-handed self-pleasure.

Then I needed more lube. And I shocked myself with the thought that both hands were now dirty and would contaminate the lube bottle. But so what? This was my private stash that stayed by my computer while I was enjoying my carefully curated porn collection.

So I threw caution to the winds and declared my lube “on-limits,” too. That’s the opposite of off-limits if you missed the reference.

These were just a few of the layers peeling off the onion that I went through. It’s still continuing each time I play with myself. But now I’m extra excited when I bump into another internal barrier. I can look at it sensibly and decide if I’m being held back by outmoded restrictions or if there’s no danger in letting my freak flag fly.

In retrospect my story is an isolated example of the kind of sexual healing we all need over and over. Hopefully I’ve inspired you to look at what’s holding you back from what your body, mind, and spirit want. And then go for it.

Enjoy! And I’d love to hear about it in the comments below.

Love, Somraj