Masturbation classe
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adventures in sex
Nov. 8, 2012
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adventures in sex
masturbation
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betty dodson
carlin ross
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The day before Hurricane Sandy hit New York City I had one main concern: I hope my vagina looks awesome. I was on my way to a female group masturbation workshop where I was going to be “playing the clitar” in front of strangers for approximately five hours. If the world was ending, at least I was leaving with a bang. Multiple bangs if I was lucky.
The leader of the workshop is the legendary 83 - year-old sex educator, Betty Dodson. Talking to Betty, it’s impossible to believe she’s an octogenarian. Cursing like a sailor, laughing at her own jokes and telling raunchy stories, she’s like Bette Davis meets Honey Boo Boo. When I asked if she still jerks it she said, “Last month, I had a knockout. I went, ‘Whoa girl, you still got it.’”
Originally a fine artist, Betty changed careers in the ‘70s when she discovered feminism and the sexual revolution. She started going to group sex parties and while watching couples get down she noticed a pattern: All the men were climaxing and all the women were faking it. Not a single woman was having a real orgasm. She was so upset she decided to take matters into her own hands, and when I say “matters” I mean clits.
She explained, “Orgasms have been very important to my life. I’ve always really depended on them. In a bad mood? Jerk off. Confused? Masturbate. Working on a painting and I’m stuck? Go lay down on the couch and have an orgasm.”
On my way to Betty’s apartment, I tried to imagine what we could possibly do for five whole hours.
When I arrived at the apartment, Carlin Ross, Betty’s smokin’ hot protégé, opened the door completely nude. “Take off your clothes in the foyer and then meet us in the main room,” she said. Things were becoming very Eyes Wide Shut , very fast. I was in mid-strip, when the front door opened and in walked one of my classmates. I pretended not to be naked from the waist down and introduced myself.
When I entered the main room there were seven nude women lying on towels and cushions casually chatting. The décor was an interesting mix of shabby chic and dildo museum. There was cozy wall-to-wall carpeting and tons of huge pillows, but also fake penises everywhere you looked. The message was clear: Relax, make yourself at home… and then penetrate yourself.
As I found my place on an empty cushion, Betty, also in the buff, joined us. The first exercise of the day was to go around the room and talk about how we felt about our bodies and our orgasms. Every woman had a unique body and set of issues, but there were definitely some common themes. No matter how beautiful each girl was there was some type of trauma around puberty or adolescence. By the end of the chat I felt like I was hanging out with a bunch of old friends who were all naked for some reason.
The next thing we did was called “Genital Show and Tell” which was like kindergarten, but with way more vulva. Each woman took turns sitting next to Betty, legs spread with a mirror and light pointed at their ya-ya. It was our vagina’s big moment in the spotlight. Betty gave each person a detailed explanation of their particular anatomy and then everyone would give your punani a compliment. We all agreed that this would have been an amazing experience to have as a teenager.
The next day was the “hands on” part of the workshop. Betty explained the two main types of orgasms, “Tension-Release” and the “Rock ‘N’ Roll.” Tension-Release is when you squeeze your whole body and PC muscles (“pubococcygeus muscles,” the thing you squeeze when you’re doing Kegels) and kind of force an orgasm. Rock N’ Roll is where you squeeze and release, squeeze and release, and then slowly over a long period of time build to climax.
To demonstrate the technique, Carlin Ross laid down in the middle of the circle while Betty explained step-by-step how to rock out. “My mantra is vaginal penetration with clitoral stimulation,” Betty said. She believes that it’s crucial not to focus solely on clitoral stimulation when you jill off because then when you have partner sex, you’ll be totally lost.
Finally, it was our turn. Betty set the mood by lighting candles and turning on classic rock radio, because nothing says “arousal” like Aerosmith. With a set of tools next to each of us including Almond Oil, a metal barbell, and a wand vibrator, seven eager ladies put the metal to the petal. Every so often a woman would start breathing really loudly and let out little squeals and squeaks and Betty would yell, “Another one down!”
The Rock ‘N’ Roll technique takes a lot longer than what I’m used to, so my mind started to wander. With a barbell in my vag and a vibrator on my clit, all I could think about was Ethiopian food. I was so hungry that I actually came to the idea of a mixed meat plate.
Then for the very last activity of the day we did the most decadent thing I have ever done: group massage. Each person takes a turn lying down while three women massage you at once.
Obviously it sounds the beginning of a lesbian gang-bang, but it was way more Lilith Fair, hippie vibes.
When I left the workshop, I checked my cell phone and had 15 missed calls from my worried, Jewish mama. I immediately called her.
“Are you are gonna be okay during the storm? Do you have enough batteries? Do you have a flashlight? You’re gonna be trapped in your house for days! Poor thing, you’re gonna be so bored!”
“Don’t worry mom, I know how to entertain myself. Actually, I can’t wait.”
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Suzannah Weiss
Suzannah Weiss is a freelance writer, certified sex educator, and sex/love coach whose work has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, New York Magazine, and more
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I was here to develop a new goal: to make my orgasms spiritual, emotional, and political.
The thought of being totally naked and pleasuring myself in front of strangers made my heart race—in a good way. As someone who’s gone to sex parties and clothing-optional resorts, I could handle the semi-public nudity and masturbation. Sure, it sounded potentially uncomfortable, but it also sounded adventurous, erotic and—if the accounts were to be believed—life changing.
It started last month, after I came across a titillating scene in Buzz: The Stimulating History of the Sex Toy by Hallie Lieberman. It described one of feminist sex educator Betty Dodson’s Bodysex workshops, where women got naked and masturbated together in her apartment. After witnessing Dodson and her assistant orgasm before trying their technique herself, one participant recounted feeling “a new sense of power… independence, and control.”
For Dodson, orgasms were about more than physical pleasure—they were the key to feminist liberation. In a 1974 article for Ms. , she preached that women should masturbate to be less sexually reliant on men, instead, becoming advocates for their own pleasure. Once women stopped depending on men for orgasms, she argued, they’d stop taking bullshit from them. I wanted in on this scheme to cut the patriarchy off from its source.
Curious about the sexual and political awakenings Betty’s group masturbation sessions could spark, I found her website with the tagline, Better Orgasms. Better World . "Men believe they must 'give' a woman her orgasm to prove they’re good lovers, while women have been conditioned to protect the male ego. Many women end up faking an orgasm to avoid hurting a lover's feelings and thus sacrificing their own pleasure," explains Dodson in one of her blog posts, titled Awakening the Clitoris . "As if that isn’t bad enough, we misname the female genitals by reducing all the parts down to a 'vagina'—which only refers to the birth canal. When was the last time you saw the word clitoris in print or heard it said on television?"
I was surprised to learn that at 88, Dodson still teaches the two-day Bodysex workshops she’s held since the '70s at her Midtown Manhattan apartment. For 10 hours of orgasm training, Dodson asks for a suggested donation of $1,200—vaginal barbell included. "We're here to heal body shame, overcome sexual guilt and experience true sisterhood," reads the class description. "There's no agenda and no expectations." I sign up immediately.
As I cautiously opened the door to Dodson's lobby, a doorman asked which apartment I was going to. I stuttered, and he gave an understanding nod. Two other women joined me in the elevator, and when one saw I was headed to the same floor, she asked if I was there for Betty’s workshop. We made polite conversation and her comfort with the situation put me at ease—which helped when Betty’s assistant, Carlin, greeted us already naked, while a few others were undressing right there in the entryway. Figuring I’d get it over with, I shoved my shirt, my pants, then finally my bra and underwear in my bag along with them.
Suddenly hyper aware of my stomach, of all things, I self consciously crossed my arms as I entered the main room, choosing a spot at random in a circle of pillows arranged around candles. As women trickled in, I covertly checked out their bodies, wondering if they were doing the same.
Once gathered, everyone looked surprisingly comfortable; some even look genuinely excited. I suppose these events attract a certain kind of crowd. First we were asked to answer two questions: “How do you feel about your body?” and “How do you feel about your orgasms?” One described feeling insecure about her thighs; another couldn’t orgasm during sex; others simply said they loved their bodies and orgasms and were there to learn all they could from the legendary Betty Dodson. Dodson, who was sitting to my left, explained that her orgasms were her life force, her power and the thing that keeps her young.
“My orgasms… are fine,” I told her. For me, masturbation had always felt like the fulfilling of a physical need, a quick physical release akin to drinking water when you're thirsty. I was here to develop a new goal: to make my orgasms spiritual, emotional, and political.
To get things started, Betty moved us onto a “genital show and tell,” where, in a lesson on female anatomy, we spread our legs in front of the group and learned what type of vulva we have, before being asked to give it a name. I learned that my vulva type is rare, with small, symmetrical lips. I suggested the name “Storm,” and everyone approved.
Several women began talking about having higher sex drives than their partners and wanting to open their relationships. It struck me how different their stories must be from the ones Betty heard in decades past, when many came to see her to masturbate or orgasm for the first time. In 1974, the same year Betty’s seminal Ms. article came out, a survey found that many women felt guilty, perverted or scared of "becoming insane" through masturbation.
I wondered how our evolving view of self-pleasure would change Betty’s masturbation sessions. Would women still struggle with shame or lack of knowledge about their own genitals? And if not, what new problems might replace the old ones?
After five hours of emotional discussions and sex education on Saturday, we arrived back at Betty's apartment on Sunday to acquire new masturbation techniques. After that, we were to break into “erotic recess” to try out what we had learned, as a group. My goal was to upgrade my orgasm from a quick release to a moving experience.
First, Carlin demonstrated Betty’s signature “rock and roll” technique—lying on your back and moving your hips up and down with a barbell i
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