Tantric Sex

Just like superstars, my husband, J., and I have delved into the magical, mystical world of tantric sex. What the hell is tantric sex, you may ask? Where have you been? Well, if you're like us--common folk--you've been muddling along in your basic missionary position, your gal-on-top, your occasional 69 for a Saturday night thrill, your S&M, your adult-baby-diaper romps (doesn't everybody?). In other words, missing out on ancient sexual secrets and a fast-growing trend.

Yes, it seems that tantric sex is rearing its godhead everywhere. Sting has gone on record saying he and Trudie keep it going for hours, courtesy of their tantric practices. So have the unshagadelic Michael Tucker and his wife, Jill Eikenberry (I don't want to imagine him so much as peeling an onion, let alone taking Jill for a marathon ride on his wild hog). The trendy TV show Sex and the City had an episode dealing with it. For me, the corker was reading a profile on Jim Carrey in Vanity Fair, in which Courtney Love describes her fellow actor as being "sexy in a tantric way." What the hell does that mean? I have no idea. But what J. and I had gleaned about the way of tantra--men able to do it all night, women brought to unbelievable heights of pleasure--piqued our interest. We decided to bone up on the subject.

I went to our local megabookstore and found a shelfful of material, from no-frills instruction manuals to glossy coffee-table books to thick tomes with literal translations of the Kama Sutra. Wow! I thought. All these books just to get laid. And I'm married. I also found a pillow book version of the Kama Sutra, which features ancient Hindu illustrations of men with alarming saber-like penises, and couples engaged in baroquely contorted positions with unflattering names like Congress of a Herd of Cows (involving a guy with two or more ladies). It seems shy young Hindu couples would use the illustrations in bed to get aroused and convey what they wanted without having to speak. (Me, I would have pointed to the picture with the exit sign.)

I decided on Tantric Sexuality: A Beginner's Guide, by the serendipitously named Dick Craze, who has also brought us Fêng Shui for Beginners, Graphology for Beginners and The Card Playing Kit, to name but a few. Obviously the man is an expert. I also bought Kama Sutra: An Intimate Photographic Guide to the Art of Love for the dirty pictures (it credits neither an author nor photographer) and because it illustrates how to move from one position to the next, almost like a synchronized swimming routine. And finally, the pillow book with the ancient sex prints, just to remind myself how glad I am that J.'s shvantz isn't shaped like a saber. Besides, we may want to try doing it standing on our heads one day, and then where would we be?

As soon as I got the books home, J. and I dove in, reading Mr. Craze's how-to in a quick couple of hours. To summarize 2000 years of aggregated wisdom: Tantric sex is an Eastern religious and practical philosophy that can, if properly employed, dramatically increase your sexual pleasure and improve your relationship with your lover. It advocates focusing on your partner's pleasure rather than your own, employing meditation, breathing and muscle-control techniques. Rather than share our Western goal of achieving ejaculation, tantric sex focuses on reaching plateaus of pleasure. The ancient tantric texts, like the Kama Sutra, hold that the act of making love can open your eyes to heaven, as opposed to the Western view of sex as a guilty pleasure to be enjoyed for ten minutes as a stress-reliever and sleep aid. (Wow! I thought as I read.These ancient dudes are strummin' my pain with their fingers.) In sum, tantric sex is a path to deeper lovemaking, an acquired skill that can be practiced for years and never mastered. J. and I decided to give ourselves a full week to get this tantric thing down.

Although you're supposed to do a series of exercises before you get to the sex part, spending so much time talking and reading about it got us all hot and bothered. We jumped in.

We started with one of the simpler exercises: The couple is supposed to have intercourse sitting up face-to-face without moving at all, just breathing together and looking into each other's eyes.

We found the exercise incredibly hypnotic and erotic. I felt as if I were looking into J.'s soul and baring my own as stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity. In linear time, however, it was about 45 seconds before we said fuck it and just went at it like rabbits, shattering the Zen of the moment but producing a couple of toe-curling orgasms.

Next night, equally impetuous, we dabbled in deep tantric waters. J. tried to hold on to his ching, or precious ejaculation, for dear life; I was gunning for the opening of my sweet lotus flower and riding him like a pony to achieve it, his ching be damned. Although in tantric sex there are supposed to be no damaging Western labels, I would have to say our sex that night was wrong. We decided thereafter to come up with a game plan.

I enjoyed calling J. at his office and giving him the drill for the evening.

"First we're going to open our chakras, then you're going to stick your lingam in my yoni. Be home by eight."

"Tonight it's the Congress of the Crow. Make sure your feathers are clean."

"If this is Tuesday, it must be the Art of a Thousand Thrusts. Hold on to your ching."

"Check," he'd whisper hoarsely. It sure beat, "What do you want for dinner tonight, stir-fry or take-out?"

Woman on Top

We started out trying a series of woman-on-top positions from the Kama Sutra, as interpreted by Professor Craze, beginning with the Pair of Tongs. After brief foreplay ("So, let's try that Tongs thing, OK?"), I got on top of J., sitting upright with my knees bent. We took care to look at each other. "This is nice," I said. And it was, but we were eager to nail a few. Herr Craze describes the next move, the Spinning Top, as difficult and warns that it can be"potentially painful for the man." Of course, the gauntlet had been thrown, and we couldn't pass up trying.

For lack of a more graceful description, the Spinning Top requires the woman to sit on her man and rotate. J. and I performed the feat gingerly. It wasn't pretty, but we didn't sustain any injuries. I found myself facing the wall and just sitting there. While it made us proud of our athletic prowess, it didn't really do anything for me, and I redubbed it Woman Playing Jacks, With Penis Inserted in Her Vagina.

From the Spinning Top it was a subtle adjustment into the Swing--and a whole new level of pleasure. I basically just leaned forward and moved, or was moved by J., in a gentle "swinging" motion. I found the position soothing, the pleasure intense, and I felt very connected to J. He was also delighted by the Swing, found it easy, felt very in control and applauded it as being "penocentric."

Next night, for comparison's sake, we tried an equivalent move called the Large Bee, as laid out in another tantric text, the Ananga Ranga. I was really looking forward to this one: The woman seemingly hovers over the (continued on page 90)Tantric Sex(continued from page 80) man, facing him, and makes wide hip gyrations, like--you guessed it--the industrious busy bee. I'm a gal who's partial to making the moves, but the Ananga Ranga warns women not to be too manlike as this will make the guy unhappy. Luckily, it takes more than hip thrusts on my part to threaten J.'s masculinity. In fact, he digs them. I quickly got down to business. J. absolutely loved it. For me it was a bit of a letdown--athletic but not particularly titillating. However, J.'s evident pleasure and appreciation spurred me on to pollination.

After I had danced like a bee to beat the band, we were both so stirred up we began making love again, just like the books recommended. At first, J. said that he sympathized with George Burns, who, at an advanced age, said his sex life was "like trying to shoot pool with a rope." But in the end, J. was a champ, employing the thrust of the Bear, alternating with the titillating thrust of the Mouse, and bringing me on home.

And Now, On to the Floor Exercises

The following night, book in hand, we decided to try a series of choreographed moves that flowed easily from one to the next, at least as depicted in the Photographic Guide. We started out with the Opening Flower, or missionary position, which was like revisiting a fondold friend. Soon it was time to move on to the Widely Yawning, a move that required me to raisemy legs to the ceiling in a V-for-victory position. (Managing to keep my legs in that position for more than 30 seconds was victory indeed.) Then I brought my knees to my chest, my feet against J.'s chest as he kneeled. The book warns that this position is the "most intense" in the sequence. I had thought earlier the woman in the picture had a look of beatific pleasure on her face; I now wonder if it wasn't a silent cry for help. We quickly moved into the Rising, where I brought my legs straight up in front of me, touching his chest, as he remained kneeling. It wasat the moment I crossed my legs into the Squeeze and flexed the old pubococcygeus that I should have asked him for the diamond stud earrings I've been coveting. He was in such ecstasy he would have said yes to anything. The next move, the Yawning, required me to hook my crossed feet over his shoulders, and it took some adjustment. From there it was but a hop, skip and a jump to the famous but ominously titled Splitting the Bamboo.

Splitting the Bamboo required me to unhook one of my legs and lower it, straightened, to the floor, lift it back up to his shoulder and then repeat the sequence with the other leg--kind of like pedaling a bike. The "rolling and squeezing" sensations these movements produce on the guy's dick are supposed to drive him crazy. I giggled as I dutifully brought one leg up, oneleg down, not sure if I was doing it right. J. reacted somewhat like one does when trying an exotic dish--"Wow, snake meat really does taste like chicken." It was interesting, different, but you wouldn't want a steady diet of it.

I was beginning to feel like we were doing a routine in some New Age gymnastics competition. All we needed was the soaring tide track from Beauty and the Beast or Endless Love blasting over loudspeakers and an Olympic arena full of screaming fans cheering us on as we performed our floor routine.

Opening Chakras, Congress of the Crow

It wasn't until a few days later, when, like kids on a Sunday night who can't put off doing the dreaded book report one minute more, that J. and I finally got down to the meditation exercises. We just hadn't had the patience, but this night we did it up right. We darkened the room, lit candles, got undressed and lay head-to-toe, my hand lightly touching his lingam, his hand atop my yoni, assuming the position to feel the energy rising from our chakras.

By the way, chakras are energy centers, and the tantric belief is that men and women have six such centers, which govern all aspects of a person's emotional, physical and spiritual self. And when they're opened, ain't nothing can stop you. So starting at the "base chakra," located at the perineum (or what J. and I like to call the taint, as in tain't this and tain't that), and moving up to the "brow chakra" (in India, a bindi marks the spot), we breathed in and out, repeated to ourselves the accompanying mantra for each energy center (from lam to the famous om) and imagined each chakra to be a flower opening. I felt a little dumb at first, and it was hard to focus. But soon I felt myself relaxing and lightening, the distractions of the day fading away. I felt energized and incredibly sexual. J. loved the meditation as well (though shouting "Done!" triumphantly when he had completed the exercise probably wasn't what the holy of holies had in mind).

From there we went straight into what the Beginner's Guide calls the Congress of the Crow, better known to you and me as the old 69. The book illustrates a couple lying on their sides, a slight adjustment from our usual position that, in the end, made all the difference in the world. For one thing, I enjoyed the vista more than the usual view of the alien mothership putting down the flesh gangplank and preparing to land on my face. And this was a warm position, in which we could also hold each other. I felt myself relaxing, a residual effect from the chakra thing, and we had a great old time. Afterward, we kissed and were still so charged up we couldn't stop fooling around. We made love again. And it was awesome.

Not that I'm counting, mind you, but that evening J. surrendered his ching twice, and I had several orgasms of increasing intensity. When we finally looked up at the clock, we were delighted to discover we had been having sex for more than an hour and a half. It wasn't just the time thing, the intense pleasure and passion, or the fact that J. was easily able to have one orgasm after another. What made it so great for me was how close to each other it brought us, literally and otherwise.

The Art of A Thousand Thrusts

This title is optimistic, but it refers to several tantric moves that, with careful practice, can prevent a man from ejaculating and allow him to make love continuously while giving his lover extreme pleasure. It involves a position called the Locking Position, another called the Squeeze Technique (both done by the man) and a carefully prescribed mix-and-match of thrusts from shallow (the Sparrow, the Mouse) to deep (the Wild Horse, the Boar, the Charging Boar, the Crashing Bore?--but I digress).

Well, we weren't going to attempt a thousand of anything without getting prepared. Once again we got naked, lit candles, meditated on our chakras and loved it. It was like revving up a plane before takeoff--firing up each engine one at a time, getting everything humming and primed. Any preoccupying thoughts melted away, and it was just me and J. and the night.

Four hundred thirty-two. That's the number of thrusts we clocked. Not that I was counting. At first it was excruciating for J., and me, too. He was (concluded on page 171)Tantric Sex(continued from page 90) thrusting away and trying to hold on to his ching, while doing Rich Little--like impressions of every creature on God's green earth with his dick. We were both reaching the brink of ecstasy--and all of a sudden he had to stop.

Then J. began to get the hang of it. Mount Vesuvius wasn't going to erupt, and the natives didn't have to evacuate. But he got the hang of it too well. All that locking and squeezing had done its work. The volcano became inactive. And all the starting and stopping had done nothing to stoke my fire. "This doing anything for you?" J. asked as he gamely thrust on. "Not much," I replied. Obviously, this thrust thing is an acquired skill.

But we went back to the Congress of the Crow and, let me tell you, all J.'s earlier exertions paid off. In spades. And a few hours later, lit with passion from all the sex we'd had, we had to have sex again. And the next morning.

So, in the end, what do J. and I think of tantric sex? Well, unlike the superstars, we don't usually have the spare six hours in a day to indulge our desires. Our window of opportunity forsex is usually nine p.m. until reruns of Friends. And sometimes just the thought of all the preparation and time everything would take was exhausting. But I have to say, whenever we were engaged in a position or trying a technique, it was time well spent.

Is tantric sex better? Taking the time to clear our thoughts and focus on ourselves first and then each other seemed to open us up to opportunities for pleasure and for becoming closer. We may not have done all the moves right, but we found new ways to be together. Some positions were winners: the Swing for me, the Bee for J. And you can't go wrong with the old Congress of the Crow. Others were less inspiring. I imagine it differs for every couple. We loved reading about sex, planning our next evening's activities and talking about it while we were doing the deed. Our frank and fond postgame wrap-ups often led us right back to the playing field.

We discovered anew that good sex engenders more good sex. The more we talked about it, the more we had; the more we had, the more we wanted. And the more pleasure we had. Scheduling sex turned out to be surprisingly exciting. Little things--like looking into each other's eyes, learning something new that pleased the other, laughing while, Twister-like, book in hand, we tried to contort ourselves into the positions in the guide--all had a certain "pretzel logic," to quote Steely Dan. The more educated you are about sex and each other's likes and dislikes, the better it will be, right?

Now, I know you've hung on my every word, but please bear in mind, J. and I are not experts. We researched tantric sex and arbitrarily chose our exercises and mode of exploration. So do try it at home, but for Vishnu's sake, consult an expert beforehand!

Keeping my legs in that position for 30 seconds was victory indeed.

The woman had a look of beatific pleasure; I now wonder if it wasn't a silent cry for help.