A fascinating story of an author working on a book about tantra and meditation and how they relate to sex and S&M (she also wrote THE ETHICAL SLUT, which is a delightful book about communication in relationships masquerading as a handbook to polyamory). She's a scientist at heart, not into the woo woo spirituality and approaches the tantra with a skeptic's frame. But while attending a beginner's tantra workshop she had a "kundalini awakening" or a full body orgasm that basically permanently rewired how her brain deals with sex. And not in a good way.
My tantric “awakening” turned me off sex - Salon.com
For the last exercise, on a balmy Saturday night, we rejoined the partners we came to the class with — in my case, Dossie. There was nothing special about this particular exercise. We were in yabyum — the tantra position where you sit in each other’s laps with your legs wrapped around one another and your bodies lined up heart-to-heart, eye-to-eye — and we were breathing and undulating our hips. No special visualization or verbalization instructions, no particular shoulds or shouldn’ts. And then, whatever was inside me decided to come out.
I began to scream, and I kept screaming. I tipped over backward, arched up off the floor, borne only by the crown of my head and the soles of my feet (with Dossie, caught, straddling me in midair). I was utterly out of control, my body wracked with wave after wave of energy.
It was like grabbing a live wire — slower, deeper, more systematic, but with the same inescapability and the same terror. And it was the deepest ecstasy I’ve ever felt, like orgasm times a hundred, from the tips of my hair to the ends of my toenails.
I couldn’t remember how to stop. I thought I might die.
It actually lasted, I’m told, about a minute and a half, but a minute and a half is a very long time to scream at the top of one’s lungs without pause except to suck in more breath, or to lift one’s own 200-pound weight and one’s partner’s 175-pound weight on one’s feet and head.
When it was over, I laughed softly in wonder. And then, with no transition, I began to cry, hard. I cried for a long, long time.
. . .