A soft tongue hides behind luscious lips and slick pearly whites. Our mouths are essential to the art of seduction and love making. Kisses after-all are at the heart of all human affection.
Beyond the physical.
There are two types of taste.
Self-seduce with taste
The first is the most recognized. It is why cooking can also be an art of seduction. Having exquisite flavours burst in your mouth is one of life’s most enjoyable sensations. Food, itself can be an aphrodisiac.
I want to focus on the second type; the subconsciousness of taste. Just as scent has the power to trigger nostalgia,
taste has the little-known power to alter mood.
Tastes fun
I associate peanut butter with my childhood. As an adult, I very rarely eat it, however, when I find myself surly or sullen, I will scoop a spoonful right out of the jar into my mouth. To me, I no longer savour the thick buttery flavour but, within a half-hour, my mood is lighter. I barely notice the transformation, unlike scent it is not instantaneous. It is more like taking an aspirin for a headache. After a few minutes, I notice that I feel better. It is as if my mind associates the taste of peanut butter with a calmer, less worrisome time and reverts back to then.
Taste Nostalgia
This phenomenon can help set the tone for romance too. Do pina coladas taste like paradise, barbecue taste like summer or hot cider taste like Christmas? It doesn’t have to be your favourite flavour, it just needs to be a taste you associate with a pleasurable mood. Chicken noodle soup may comfort you and mint chocolate chip ice cream may leave you jubilant.
Not convinced? Consider tequila. If even the thought of this murky liquid causes your stomach to roil that is because you probably had a drunken tequila night that ended badly. The brain remembers and has since rejected the taste of (and possibly the sound of the word) tequila. On the other hand, if you are grinning with the thought of licking, shooting, and sucking…well, then cheers. But I would bet you know someone who would groan or gag at the same thought.
Still not convinced? One word.
Chocolate.
Self-Seduce with taste
This heavenly creamy flavour has so many benefits and for the purpose of this article, it is commonly associated with childhood, holidays and love. No wonder women (and men) crave it and indulge in it because it holds the power to alter your mood. Better than any drug.
Please practice moderation with the consumption of any mood altering substance.
Tastes like childhood
Before a night of romance, especially if the weather has taken its toll, put your subconscious taste buds to the test. Even if your plans include an evening of strawberries, wine, lobster and stuffed chicken; consider sneaking in an abstract appetizer or cocktail. It could boost your mood and widen the gates to the path of romance, seduction, and passion.
This is an example of simple mind over matter. Allow your sense of taste to alter your mood to one of arousal.
I stash a tub of gummy bears in the car and a six pack of Corona in the fridge just in case we happen upon a night with the unexpected promise of romance. I trust in the flavours to nudge my mood to ensure my ultimate pleasure.
A special thanks to Emily Wright for letting me post here on your website. Thanks Em.
Sex Drugs & Working Moms: This Victoria Has No Secrets
It was Valentine’s Day, four years ago, and I was expected to step out of my powder room donning Victoria Secret’s newest super sexy show stopper. The evening was meant to be oh so romantic.
Lit only by the glow of our fireplace, my love handed me the suspiciously large gift bag with excitement and anticipation dancing in his eyes. I tried to pull my libido from its hibernation to match his enthusiasm,
…but I am a Canadian girl and it was February.
This means I was still carrying my post holiday weight, nothing below my collar had seen the sun since September, and I was sporting homegrown insulation. In short, I was doughy, pastey, and hairy. Yes, I said it.
There I was under the harsh lighting of my bathroom unveiling the wonder that was my Valentine’s Day gift. You know the outfit; every man’s fantasy. A lacy full-bodice number with reinforcement enough the hold cleavage at an unnatural altitude, thigh high stockings and garters of course. By the time I presented myself, I was wild eyed, red faced and completely dishevelled. One might be flattered that their husband bought a size too small. I, on the other hand, know my hubby all too well. In his mad dash to the store to meet Hallmark’s Valentine’s Day expectations, he picked the sales clerk who looked most like me or who was closest to him in the store and asked her her size.
Don’t get me wrong, the black ensemble was beautiful with its iron boning, 72 hook and eyes lining the back and impossibly tiny claps for the garter belt to be fastened just below the butt cheeks. I am sure it looked amazing on the porcelain manikin. The headless, armless figure also had the advantage of not having flesh or flab to hinder the shape. More importantly, the manikin had assistance strapping the sucker on without the pesky inconvenience of having to breathe.
I am sorry, when Valentine’s day is on a Tuesday night, a school night,
…you are just happy to get the kids in bed early enough to share a bottle of wine, whisper some sweet nothings, take top, and go to bed.
Instead, there I was with my breasts up my nose, tugging and reefing on the least agreeable fabric known to man. Imagine 72 tiny curls of wire that need to slip into loops of thread that run down your spine. The only way to fasten every delicate hook was to put the corset on backwards. I did mention that it was too small, right? I remember looking in the mirror and seeing the elegantly laced breast cups sitting on my back as I wrestled and wiggled trying to twist it into place. At one point, my husband asked if I was okay because I had spun myself into the vanity so violently that it was a wonder I didn’t wake the kids. Once the death trap was facing the correct way, I was an enraged, unlikely contortionist, who still needed to fasten the garter straps. I was bound so tightly that my breaths were short and sharp. How the hell was I going to bend at the waist to locate the tiny gold clasps, let alone secure my nylons to them?
Somehow I managed to get it on, not without sacrificing skin and my air supply – I got it on. My gliding to the bed wasn’t exactly by choice as the stockings, again too small, limited my movement. I did reign in my frustration, discouragement, and overall self-loathing for the sake of the occasion. When my husband began to release me from my torture chamber, I was mixed with relief and outrage.
What was it all for? Better yet, who was it all for?
Afterwards, when he was still giddy with the memory of his gift, he started making birthday and anniversary requests. There must have been something in my expression that said divorce or homicide because he abruptly stopped talking. I haven’t gotten lingerie for Valentine’s Day since.
Happy Valentine’s Day!!
Look for more advice, anecdotes, and steamy stories to be posted in the weeks to come.
