Monday, June 12 2000
Earlier today, I was joking with Kim about how companies will probably start dropping the dot com from their names in an attempt to distance themselves from the taint of the presently bearish dot com stock market. Well I recalled the first act of Adam Jacobs when he became the second or third VP of Marketing for College Club back in February of 1999. After a couple weeks of research and schmoozing with the graphic designers, Adam merged the name College Club into one word and tacked a stylish dot com on the end. He then outsourced a logo project whose goal was to replace the clunky letter-jacket style of the College Club logo with that swooshy look typical of internet logos in that quaint web epoch.
(Space may be the final frontier, but it's made in a Hollywood basement.)
And now this evening I see Wired is running a story about this very subject.
In the evening, Kim and I were in bed fooling around as usual and I decided to try my hand at massaging her so-called "sacred spot," a structure resembling a corrugated button lamp in the ceiling of the vagina. It lies in an especially high dome just behind the arch of the pubic bone. Being immersed in Los Angeles tantric culture, I'm continually exposed to advice on the hows and whys of sacred spot massage. I've even watched an instructional video called How to Female Ejaculate in which the host, Fanny Fatale, used a speculum to show us her brainlike sacred structure. The other night at Dr. Susan Block's birthday all the ladies had been going on and on about the wonders of sacred spot massage. "Once you've found a man who can give a good sacred spot massage, there's no point in going anywhere else," gushed Joilee, Dr. Susan Block's trusty blond assistant.
It's important to understand at this point that the sort of orgasm a woman has when successfully stimulated at her sacred spot is rather different from a conventional female orgasm. This is because the orgasm that concludes a session of sacred spot massage is frequently accompanied by a female ejaculation, that is, a copious outpouring of a mysterious clear fluid. Such an ejaculation is also called "amrita." No one is quite sure what this fluid is or where exactly it comes from, but it is probably not urine. And not just any woman can experience an amrita. It's an acquired skill and few women who ever master it do so before their 30th birthday. (Dr. Corynna Clarke being a notable exception to this rule.)
So tonight I had my hand in Kim's vagina, rubbing and rubbing at about the tempo of a fast rave beat, and Kim was enjoying it rather well. As her apparent pleasure swelled, so did the tissue surround her sacred spot. Finally she jumped out of bed and ran to the toilet, thinking she had to pee. But it was a false alarm and no fluids presented themselves. Had Kim simply relaxed and let the amrita happen, I feel certain she would have drenched the bed. But to do so requires letting go in a new, unfamiliar way. Since this was just our first lesson, we let the urge to amrita subside on its own. As she lay still before falling asleep, Kim said she felt like she was in middle school all over again with an unusual swollen feeling in her loins. It was, she added, rather like how she'd felt after her first hard core heavy petting adventure. She said it wasn't even an uncomfortable feeling; if anything it was simply intriguing.
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