The 30 Year Old Sexual Peak

By The Advice Diva

A painting of a 30 year old female, peaking

I recently had the unpleasant experience of turning thirty much to my chagrin. However, I will forever allege that this was not my fault. Time was moving much too swiftly and although I tried my best to stay in the sexy and swinging twenties, I lost my grip and fell flat on my face in my thirties. I am led to believe that I will not be allowed to return. The horror. The horror.

Aside from my momentary lapses of self pity, there are some great benefits to being a woman in her thirties. As you probably guessed from the title of this article, I am now in my sexual prime. It seems like a cruel joke. Guys can’t think about anything but the tent pole in their pants while in their teens and early twenties. But by the time women get to the same stage, the men are calling in reinforcements of Viagra. I am sure you have all heard about this before. Women hit their sexual prime at thirty……or do they? I almost half expected to become some raging ball of hormones as if I was pushed on by a button when I turned thirty. I was looking forward to it. To my dismay, no such transformation has occurred.

Shedding light on this curiosity of mine was Dr. Sandor Gardos, a doctor in sexual education. According to Dr. Gardos, the notion that women hit their sexual peak at 30 is very misleading. You will find many websites and articles on the very subject talking about how women get their groove on and peak at 30, or 35 while others say 40. But if you are talking about a hormone flux, this is simply not true. Men and women develop the same hormones at the same time: puberty. The only reason why women seem so much more interested at a later age is because we were taught NOT to be interested in sex when we were kids. If you experimented with sex like the boys did, you would be labeled the town Jezebel. Only when women mature are they able to feel more comfortable talking about and practicing sex. They finally open up and begin to feel normal about desiring sex.

Then it becomes a whole new world for women. The reason why people argue about the age of the sexual peak in women is because it varies for each women. It might take some women, for example, longer to learn how to orgasm. But when each woman finally feels comfortable with her body and the virtues of sex, it just might be like hitting puberty for her, especially if she had always lived a reserved or conservative life. This can be a great time in a woman’s life; a true sexual awakening. And if you measure a sexual peak by interest level, then you can say that she has hit her prime. On the other hand, there are some women who go wild and crazy in their twenties and never give a thought to those societal messages, i.e. “Good Girls Don’t”. All things considered, these girls may not experience this sudden surge of sexual prowess at the 35 year mark. They have already experienced it all. Ahem. But not me, of course. I am an angel.

If there are any young guys out there who are tempted to seduce an older woman just because she may be in her sexual prime and easily lured by an open invitation, you may want to think again. However, it may interest all men and women to know that according to a recent publication in the Oxford Journals, women do experience a subtle phase of heat on a monthly schedule. Mid-month on her cycle to be exact. During this time, women are shown to be more attracted to androstenone (a pheromone like sweat substance), are more attracted to symmetrical and masculine faces and more attracted to the subject of sex. Even as basic as this is, its still fun to talk about. In the same journal, I also uncovered a freaky fun fact. The word for heat, Estrus, comes from a Greek word ‘oistrus’ which means Gadfly. Literally, it means ‘in a frenzied state’ because when the gadflies would buzz around cattle, they would drive the cattle into a frenzied state which resembled the same state they go into when they wanted to mate. So when scientists refer to estrus in a female, remember that this concept originated from cows.

For questions and comments contact The Advice Diva at: thediva@advicediva.com Please visit www.advicediva.com for more articles by the Diva

My Unfulfilled (and Unfulfillable?) Fantasy

By Mark Bernstein

Last Fall I spent a month as a volunteer neurosurgeon and teacher in Indonesia. I went alone; my wife and three daughters remained in Canada. It was a fabulous experience to leave my privileged world in Toronto and do some philanthropic work with those less fortunate and I will be doing it on a yearly basis. I didn’t have a lot of time to do much sightseeing but my hosts took me on some short excursions. One turned into a memorable event.

One weekend one of the senior residents, “L”, took me to his family’s country home – a simple but lovely bamboo home in west central Java, nestled in rice fields and small mountains near a town called Garut. On the way we stopped at a hot swimming pool fed naturally by a hot spring. On the way out of there, L chatted up a fellow in the parking lot and then whispered to me: “We’ll get a massage”. I love massages but my initial suspicions quickly turned into worry as we followed the man down long narrow alleys. I felt like I was in a “B” movie, and one that might end badly for the protagonist. I whispered nervously to L: “This is just a massage right?” and he waved off my concerns. The man eventually led us to an open-air room crudely furnished with an old couch and a television. It gave onto two small rooms each with a bed and a bath. We were handed off to another young man who made a call on a cell phone and beckoned us to sit down.

Three minutes later two attractive and seductively clad young ladies appeared. I asked L to explain to them that a regular massage was the order of the day and I added a few graphic hand gestures to clarify for good measure. L went into one room with one young lady and left me with the more exotic and beautiful of the two. She called herself Mickie and I found out she was 24 – the age of my oldest daughter. That’s about all the verbal communicating we could do.

Mickie was quite gorgeous. She had a tight little body, a very beautiful face somewhere between Chinese and Philippina, and mid-length black hair. I found myself tantalized and drawn by her enigmatic beauty and it reminded me that I have always been more than a little fascinated by Asian women. My first wife was the middle daughter of a Japanese father and Irish mother and her delicate elegance and beautiful but understated sexuality was a magnet, along with her gracious personality. My many travels to the Orient and India in the last 20 years have reaffirmed my attraction for Asian women. And every day in my hospital I work in intimate life and death situations with a large number of skilful, compassionate, and ineffably sexy women who have emigrated from the Philippines and China. So the sexual tension was already high when I walked into the little room with Mickie and the door closed behind us. I was both nervous and excited but I knew the only outcome there could be.

The room had peeling paint and was about 95 degrees Fahrenheit with no air movement. I asked for a towel and she giggled as she handed me a washcloth and closed the door. I carefully undressed in front of her and flopped onto the bed on my front with the tiny towel on my buttocks. I heard a belt buckle rattling. I peeked over and saw her shedding her clothes to reveal a skimpy translucent black bikini-style bra and panties.

She poured herself onto the bed and gave me a body rub with a cheap cream. But it was clear this was not her primary area of expertise. When she did my legs she sat between them and the leg she worked on was supported on her thighs as she was in a sitting crouch. The small towel over my genitals slid around precariously. When she did my back she crouched facing my feet so her tight little bum was six inches from my face. Once or twice she made suggestive glances and gestures and almost touches but when I waved my hand “No” she respectfully complied. Being disloyal to my commitment to my wife has never been an option for me, and that combined with the fear of communicable disease shoved any thoughts of “I wonder what it would be like�” out of my mind. But I certainly wondered for a brief moment and I enjoyed every second of the delicious sexual tension that filled the room like the hot humid air.

But besides these good reasons for not having sex with Mickie there was another important reason. I would have had performance anxiety. I was alone with a beautiful young Indonesian woman less than half my age that had been with countless men and I was afraid I could not measure up to her expectations. Here I was a 53-year-old uptight Canadian neurosurgeon with all kinds of insecurities about myself and even if I had been an unfaithful type, I probably could not have gotten it on with Mickie if I had tried. In fact, while I was incredibly turned on during our entire time together (and still get turned on just thinking about it again), not once did even the beginnings of an erection try to emerge.

After about 30 minutes of what was supposed to be a one hour session, I thanked her awkwardly in Indonesian and after I declined an invitation into a bath, she got dressed, then left me alone to do so. Afterwards I joined her on the couch to wait. Every so often she smiled at me and sweetly caressed my thigh or arm as if to say: “Thanks for not being another one”. It was quite touching because instead of seeing her as an experienced prostitute, I saw a vulnerable young woman, someone who could have been my daughter. I thought of the numerous physical and psychological violations she had suffered by strange men entering her body, using her only as a means to an end.

L eventually came out and we paid the bill. Both girls giggled and Mickie hugged me warmly and kissed me gently on the cheek. As we walked to the car, I did not ask L what sort of “massage” he had received. I did not want to know the answer. Many people had told me that marital infidelity by males is extremely common in Indonesia, especially among members of the medical profession.

That day I felt happy to escape but now I can say something that many men may secretly fantasize about: “I’ve been in the company of a prostitute”. But the afternoon graphically reminded me of my fascination with Asian women and it also made me confront my sexual inadequacies and even cowardice. I can tell myself and others that I didn’t fuck Mickie for fidelity reasons and health reasons till the cows come home (and its absolutely true!) but in the final analysis I couldn’t have fucked her even if I had wanted to. Is that pathetic or is it a good thing? I think I’ve figured out the answer to that question but I’ll never be sure.

Mark Bernstein is a neurosurgeon at the Toronto Western Hospital and Professor of Surgery at the University of Toronto. He and his wife Lee (a native Los Angelina) have three daughters and two pet labradors. He has written extensively in the medical literature for over 20 years and for the last few years has been trying his hand at non-medical writing. He is the world’s second worst saxophone player.

Fuck My Face? Please

By Lauri Jean Crowe

“I’m naked, lying flat on my back crossways on the bed. My neck’s supported by the edge of the mattress and I’m breathing in shallow gasps between thrusts. My nostrils are buried deep in his balls, balls that are slapping against my forehead and sending off that intoxicating smell of him. My hair is trailing on the floor, whooshing back and forth. Back and forth. This is when I feel truly alive. When he’s fucking my face. I know I’m really pleasing him, and all I have to do is lay there, throat relaxed and wait for him to get off. It’s even better when he shoots across my chest. That climax makes me feel special, all his warmth spreading across my breasts. I’ve always had small breasts, so it makes them seem important somehow.” – Sharon, 32, defense attorney.

Now, I know a lot of women who would be offended if their lover walked up to them and said, “I want to fuck your face”. They would feel as if they were being depersonalized, made into an object. However, Sharon, and many women like her who hold high stress positions in the work force where they consistently have to be in control, often like to relinquish it in the bedroom.

While Sharon says she wouldn’t necessarily like the language coming from her own mates mouth, it’s the action she appreciates, “I come home from yet another 10 or 12 hour day, on my feet, in court and the last thing I want to do is please someone sexually. I don’t want to have to be thinking about which way to twist my tongue, or rotate my pelvis. I don’t want to think, okay, am I getting him off? I just want to veg out, relax and be taken care of. Fortunately I’ve found a man who knows exactly what I need, and my lack of active involvement is what’s pleasing to him. I don’t mind being used as an object, because I don’t see it that way.

We’re both getting what we want. I get to relax, be passive, and feel sexy, the total focus of his needs and desires, yet at the same time I’m satisfied and satisfying him. So, is it okay for women to be passive in the bedroom? Sure, as long as they’ve actively made the decision to do so and communicated it to their mate. When it becomes a problem is when both parties needs aren’t being met. Sharon related that with a prior lover she had such difficulties.

“He just didn’t understand my need to be passive, my need to simply be fucked, taken, ravaged almost willingly raped at times. He thought that because I was this successful lawyer by day with a classic type A personality that I would be aggressive in bed as well. And some days I am aggressive, I’d rip his clothes off and surprise the hell out of him, but most days I wanted to be the one with torn buttons. I tried to explain to my last lover that I needed that release, with someone else being aggressive after a day in the courts, but he just couldn’t understand. So, I moved on.”

Sharon’s related that she’s found some of the men who understand her needs most are those who have desk jobs, and she thinks it’s the contrast that works.

“I’m in a career where I have to be the aggressor in the courtroom. It’s very demanding, and often someone’s life depends on my performance. So, I want the reverse in bed most days. However, men who sit at a desk all day doing business by fax and phone or computer work don’t have that confrontation with people. They often need an aggressive, more physical outlet to their lives. If they aren’t into racquetball or some other form of sport, usually their wilder sides come out in the bedroom. I’ve found that I don’t seek out cops, or firemen anymore. I use to think because they put their lives on the line every day they’d be more alive in bed. But, give me a computer geek any day. My current lover is a programmer, and we’re perfect for one another.”

Obviously, we speak in stereotypes when we say that people who have aggressive roles in their careers tend to be less aggressive in the bedroom and vice versa, and obviously we all have our days where we ravish our mates like a person starved. Or, at least we should. However, this aggressive by day, passive by night situation is a common sexual scenario, and one you might want to consider the next time someone says to you, “I want to fuck your face” or something similar that at first seems to offend.

Perhaps, you should look beyond the language, and think about the need behind the words. Perhaps its not something you’d want to engage in every day, but maybe it’s the start of a new sexual adventure in which you can meet someone else’s need and simply relax. Don’t see yourself as an object, see yourself like Sharon does, “the total focus of his needs and desires”.

Lauri Jean Crowe is a freelance writer known for such diverse topics as dreams, sexuality, gardening, health and parenting. She is a freelance writer, artist and designer living in Michigan, USA.