TRANSCRIPT – Why I Love to Be F**ked Hard
THAT was an infamous clip from the unsuspecting Charlotte in the original Sex and the City show.
I, and the million women who saw that clip on my Instagram, wholeheartedly concur.
Sometimes—often times—I need to get really pounded.
I need to get thrust all over the bed, I need to be grabbing sheets and bed frames and chair backs for ballast so I don’t go flying.
I need a man to show me just how powerful and wild and relentless he can be.
And then channel all of that energy into my pussy.
I especially need the hard stuff when something is stuck in me and I’m looking for a way to dislodge it.
It could be a specific emotion that’s just lingering below the surface, like anger or sadness.
The steady jostling helps to knock it loose so I can find it and fully let it wash over me.
It may be a buildup of stress that the pounding will break through, pulverizing into a million little pieces, and then I can integrate it.
Getting ferociously pounded takes me out of my head and straight into my body.
Can’t think, no space for any thoughts in my head.
I often say, the best way to solve a troubling problem is NOT to think about it.
We can get in mind grooves and get lost in the pros and cons and anxiety over an outcome.
Get fucked instead.
Get thoroughly, wildly plowed and your mental anguish will disappear.
You’ll be left with a giddy, blissful clarity and the answer will just come to you.
Like you came, over and over.
You cleared out all of the cobwebs and dust and mental and physical debris.
And you are left purified.
Reborn.
I always loved the term “la petite mort” – the French expression for orgasm, meaning the little death and rebirth.
It reflected my own experiences early on, of feeling totally transformed after an intense sex session.
I felt self-actualized—like I was becoming more and more of my true self.
As though any of the false parts of me were being washed away, leaving the most authentic version of who I am.
THIS is why I do the work I do.
THIS is why this is my life’s mission.
To show people what the true power and purpose of sex is.
Light years beyond a superficial experience of “getting your rocks off”, it has the capacity to heal, regenerate and rebirth us.
And that turns me on more than anything.
**
Early on in my sexual history I had a partner who would fuck me for hours
I would have several cataclysmic cervical orgasms.
I thought that was normal.
I thought that was what sex was supposed to be.
That set the bar for my whole sexual experience and it’s why we’re here today.
Because those orgasms were so deep and profound and life-changing.
In those sessions we’d have sex—as in intercourse—for hours.
Usually at a wild and pounding pace.
I’m an athlete. I’m into endurance. I like to see how far I can push myself.
I know that on the other side of that, is always some kind of payout.
Bliss. A clear head. Feelings of euphoria throughout the body. The mental satisfaction of having conquered new territory.
***
There are times when I need to be broken.
I can’t break myself; meaning, I need cracking open.
I get this in different ways in my life.
I go to the gym and lift heavy weights.
I’ve gotten orgasms out of those.
I’ve had Bulgarian Split Squat-gasms.
And Hack Squat-gasms.
There’s a reason why there’s a running joke in fitness circles about Bulgarian Split Squats that goes along the lines of:
“I don’t know where Bulgaria is, but man I hate that place!”
This exercise is the gym equivalent of cervical orgasms.
They’re intense and wild and they bring you to your breaking point where you don’t know if you can keep going.
And the lesser mortals turn back.
The gods among us keep going.
It’s the intensity—the weight, the strength you need to execute.
And the endurance. The drive to keep going.
Even though parts of you want to quit, you don’t.
What amazing training for life!
Cervical orgasms in women are the same thing.
Not for the faint of heart.
Only the spiritually serious and brazen need apply.
They train you in the same way to build your stamina—especially your stamina for pleasure and receiving good things in your life.
How much ecstasy can you take?
And no, not the pill kind.
You don’t even need it when you can generate it from your vagina.
The more you allow yourself to receive bliss sexually, the more you become a MAGNET for all the good things and pleasure in your day-to-day life.
It all starts in your vagina. Or your cock.
**
To go back to the split squat analogy—and reality—people who weight train and make the most rapid gains are those who practice what we call “progressive overload”.
This means that you need to be training at your edge all of the time, if you want to grow the most muscle.
You need to go *just a little bit further* and heavier this week—or even in this session—than you did last week.
The muscle is challenged.
And in response it grows stronger to cope with the increased load.
This is the very essence of Anami.
Anami is a Sanskrit word for “there’s always another level to go.”
If you plateau in weight training; that is, if you lift the same weights each training session and the same sequence of weight; you’ll quickly hit a place where you don’t grow any more.
You have to keep levelling up.
This is why I often work out with a trainer.
They keep me honest!
If I’m tempted to give myself an easier day and drop the weight a bit—which occasionally is okay, like say if I’m recovering from an injury, but not as a way of life; at least not for me anyway—then they push me to that next level.
This is exactly what I want my friends, trainers and lover to do:
Push me to the next level.
I’m not interested in subsisting.
I want explosive growth.
So for me, I need a man who can.
A man who has that relentless—notice I’m using this word a lot!—drive and can take me farther than I can take myself.
He can sense where I need to go, how deeply I need it and how intense a level he has to rise to for us to get there.
A fearless fucker extraordinaire.
A man who can’t do this; who fumbles and falters and bails after 10 minutes because “OMG your ass in that position; it was just too much for me….” is a no go.
My earliest partners were extraordinary fuckers.
And so they set the bar for what sex is meant to be.
When I later came across a premature ejaculator, I was l like:
What the fuck is this??
UNACCEPATBLE!
And it was.
That relationship had no future because he wasn’t—and nor did he want to learn how to become—a legendary Supercock.
I need someone to hold me down and fuck me
The other thing about a relentless pounding is that you can’t escape it.
Someone is holding me down, or up, and fucking the shit out of me.
The shit—the demons, the negative thoughts, the mind mess.
ALL of it getting fucked out.
I’m being penetrated to me core, wildly, ferociously and he won’t back down.
He’s holding me to the fire.
In this space, you can’t hide.
There is nowhere to go. No place to deflect.
To get to the promised land of the holy, alchemical, changes-you-from-the-inside-out fuck, you have to be courageous.
To expose yourself, and pry open the curtains that you hide behind.
We all have them.
The best lovers forcefully—and sometimes softly, though we’ll talk about that next week—get us to open.
We do this for each other.
The penetration.
You don’t let each other hide.
You call each other out with love.
You hold each other down and love the fuck out of each other.
And fuck the shit out of each other—and by this I mean headboard-slamming sex and I also mean that by fucking each other with intense love and admiration, you literally fuck the demons out of each other.
They just evaporate.
This is LOVE.
This is alchemical sex.
Where we transform our base parts into gold.
So you get up from that kind of fucking
And you walk very carefully, not because you’re sore—no sir, not when you have a legendary vagina—but because you’re landing back in a new body, and living on a new plane of existence.
You’ve never been so in your body, and yet you’ve also completely reconfigured it.
All the way to the cellular level, you’ve rearranged yourself.
Like throwing a handful of confetti up in the air and it lands all over the place and the pieces magnetically reassemble.
So you walk softly and gingerly, like you are this newly formed work of art that has arrived to the planet.
Every ounce, every atom of you is vibrating and humming with euphoria.
A deep calm.
A quiet and unshakeable confidence.
You went down into the depths of your own underworld.
You faced the biggest demons in your being.
And you slayed.
You held fast, you didn’t waver and you made it to the next level.
And that, ladies and gentlemen.
Is why I LOVE to be fucked hard.
