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There are important links between the spiritual and the sensual and the sexual. I have almost always used the sensual as the entrance to the spiritual: for there are ways that the sensual and the erotic experiences can be transcendent, just as spiritual experiences can be erotic. I know this: the Tibetan Buddhist model for the awakened mind is — orgasm. Ideally, the sexual is an expression of the sacred, it is an act of worship of the divine spark in my partner. There are those out there who remain unconvinced of the spiritual dimensions of sexual pleasure, who are in doubt that the heights of which I have spoken are actually possible. Indeed, most advocate a temperate, low-key “it feels good bodily function” status for sex — I know and understand this perspective because much of my own sexual expression has been a rational exercise in the mechanics of…

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Silken on Sex #78: It is fair to say that I’m an enthusiastic masturbator and sex toy aficionado. My primary partner calls me his pervy dirty girl, and fortunately is not threatened by my self-pleasuring practices. He knows that my libido is off-the-charts and that it takes a herculean effort on anyone’s part (including my own) to keep me feeling satisfied for more than a few hours at a time. But he does try, and between his efforts and mine, we keep things very interesting. Which is where my chest full of sex toys comes in. I am grateful to be a woman, and grateful that so many people have put so much ingenuity and effort into accessorizing women’s pleasures.  Toys to fulfill our every pleasure, fantasy, and sexual need line the shelves of thousands of adult stores all over the world. And fortunately for men, I’ve noticed that the…

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(This is the complete text of the erotic story Dirty Girl: The Preacher’s Kid. If you haven’t listened to my podcasts of this story, Part One is here and Part Two is here.) Songs of Solomon 5:15 His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold; his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. She was a preacher’s kid, and like most preacher’s kids, she had a naughty streak, Rebecca did, only her parents didn’t know it. Most people didn’t. To all appearances she was a good Christian girl who did all the right things and never caused her parents a lick of trouble. But underneath the long tresses and proper dresses was the mind and body of a Dirty Girl. “I’m a Dirty Girl,” she’d sing to herself as she walked down Main Street toward the parsonage, nodding and smiling to all the ladies…

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Silken on Sex #74: Most of what I write and record is based on personal experiences. Deliciously intense erotic experiences. As I’m writing this now, I’m intoxicated. By wine and other things. Other things? You are probably asking yourself. Yes, other things. Like the fragrance of ‘us’ wafting up from between my thighs. I was puttering around in my vocal booth (for recording audios) when my lover surprised me there. I was on tip-tip toes, my arms spread wide above my head, when his hands closed around my wrists, pressing them down onto a shelf. He pressed himself against me, scraping his shadow along the back of my neck. I moaned. How could I not? There is something about that burning scrape that is so pleasurable that my skin pebbles and I gasp. And moan. And I ground myself back against him, arching my back, wriggling my hips and ass…

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I call this rock formation the Sandstone Pudendum. This photograph was taken in Kolob Canyon, which is a remote northern section of Zion National Park in Utah. I was struck immediately by its obvious resemblance to the female pudendum, or vulva. I’m not certain of the size, but I’d say that the cleft itself is at least 2000 feet, and quite likely more, seeing as the trees around it are Ponderosa Pines, which tend to reach 150 feet in this area. If I’d had the time, I would have hiked up into that huge cleft. There is something awe-inspiring about it, for me anyway. I cannot help but think that it is a holy place, seeing as it so directly resembles the ‘sacred feminine’, the entrance into the chalice, that holy grail of womanhood (ok, so I’ve read the Da Vinci Code). Seriously though, I get goosebumps whenever I see…

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Q: Dear Silkenvoice: As I’ve gotten older my sexual needs have become more and more specific. I can only cum if the circumstances are just-so (I have a fetish). I can rarely cum when my wife and I have sex and she is taking it personally. Is there something wrong with me? What can I do? –Paul. PS: I love your voice. Do you do custom stories? A: Paul, I don’t think there is anything wrong with you. If you ever listen to Dan Savage, he cautions against what he calls the “death grip” during masturbation. He speaks to the vanilla community for the most part, but his words are applicable to practitioners of kinky/fetish sexuality as well. What does be mean by “death grip” masturbation? Finding what works and never deviating from it. Males discover at rather young ages that if they touch themselves in a certain way, it…

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Morning after a night of erotic dreams. Awakening to feeling sexually charged, keyed. Feeling the erotic energy trapped between my hips. It is early. I have time to meditate, to masturbate, to have my morning orgasm. Arising from my bed. The world is still asleep. Silence. Its almost tangible. It lays over my ears like an amplifier. Every creak, every squirrel chitter, every bird twitter, is audible, even from inside. Coffee. Micro-roasted, the ‘Fat Albert’ blend. The scent is amazing, the taste as amazing as the scent, its flavor moderated with a dollop of heavy cream. Real cream. It is moist outside. The air caresses my skin, masking my face in cool mist. So refreshing and invigorating. Green. So many shades of green. The guest from England said we have more shades of green here even than in the British Isles. The daffodils and tulips are blooming. The bamboo is…

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Renewal is everywhere I look. It is all there in a glance at flower beds with crocuses pushing their spikes up from under dead leaves. Camellias, the harbingers of Spring, are flowering, fallen blossoms already rotting on the new-green grass. The air feels almost-balmy and the sap is rising in the trees like Persephone rising from the Underworld. Today 350,000 babies were born and 300,000 people died. Birth. Life. Death. I buried my grandfather and my sister not so long ago, and there are days when grief is a mantle white and terrible as snow. The story of Persephone, The Maiden abducted by Hades who became Queen of the Underworld, and her tie to the seasons, to loss and grief and renewal, has been on my mind, and so I’ve been working on a naughty story which I am calling Freeing Persephone. In it, a man tries to comfort his…

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