I was faking it…

one woman’s search for orgasm

Posts Tagged ‘masterbation

Plunging the happy hole

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“Don’t knock masturbation. It’s sex with someone I love.”
                                                    -line form the movie Annie Hall

My fiancé and I work different hours. Some mornings, as he’s getting ready to head off to his office and I’m still lounging around in my pajamas, he asks me how I’m planning to spend my day. I tell him I’m going to masturbate. It’s a bit of a joke between us because in reality we both know that’s the last thing I’d be doing.

It’s not that I think there’s anything perverted about girls touching themselves—I’ve just never found the act of self-stimulation very stimulating. And I guess, at some point, I just assumed that, like the time I tried ticking the bottoms of my own feet and was unable to induce anything close to an electrifying body-shock, heavy petting is a practice that requires more than one set of hands.

But that was before I’d committed myself to achieving sexual fulfillment through the big ‘O’.

According to Solot and Miller, authors of I Love Female Orgasm,

Masturbation is the fastest and easiest way for many women to have orgasms, and the most common way for a woman to come for the first time. In [their] survey, women who had masturbated were far more likely to be orgasmic (by themselves of with a partner) than women who had never masturbated (88 percent compared to 48 percent) (Source, p.41).

In the words of Seinfeld, in order to orgasm I need first to become the ‘master of my domain.’

Whilst phase one involved a visual exploration of my vulva (see previous post—don’t worry, I didn’t use a magnifying glass), phase two in this journey is all about touch:

You’re goal is to find out what kinds of touch feel best to you, and what places on your body are most sensitive…With each thing you do, just notice the sensations without judging yourself…You may feel very little at first, but pay attention to even the smallest sensations—they’ll grow with practice (Source, 72-74).

Interestingly, what the Solot and Miller are talking about is ‘mindfulness’—an approach to awareness and thus appreciation of life described by writers such as Eckhart Tolle in The Power of Now .

When I first read Tolle’s book several years ago, I tried to be more ‘mindful’ of what I was doing while eating, or what I was seeing as I walked down the street (though judging by the number of times I’ve bitten my tongue or tripped over curbs in the past few months I’ve obviously fallen out of practice)—but never did I consider applying that same approach to touching myself.

I decided to start the experiment by running my fingers over parts of my body—my neck, inner thighs, earlobes, the small of my back—that usually explode in shivers under my fiancé’s touch.

It wasn’t unpleasant, especially with the combination of my the warm water shooting down from the nozzle overhead, and the smell of the rich clove-scented soap—but there were definetly no lightening bolts.

Though I bet if someone was in the shower with me…

my usual mode of self-stimulation

my usual mode of self-stimulation

As soon as I started wondering how to improve the experience, the rest of the voices decided to jump in: one was complaining about a cluster of pimples on my upper thigh that I’d never noticed before and another was ordering me to turn off the tap because if I was just going to stand there doing nothing I could at least stop wasting water.

What happened to focusing on the moment? Mindfulness is apparently not something that comes easy to me.

But I wasn’t ready to give up. After all, Solot and Miller suggest a goal of twenty-minutes for each self-pleasuring session and my hands hadn’t even gotten to wrinkly phase yet.

It was time to be a little more daring, and go for the breasts. There is something amazing about nipples—and not just the way the smooth pink skin hardens into fleshy thimbles when stimulated. What makes them special is that, at least in the case of my body, they have a direct link with my clitoris.

If I wake up the pink thimbles, I wake up the clit, which then demands to be touched.

My first impulse, of course, was to obey. However, on this occasion, in the interest of mindfulness, I just let myself experience the throbbing urgency. And when it started to pass, I moved on to my other breast.

By the time I finally allowed my fingers to, as the saying goes, ‘plunge the happy hole’ I am proud to say, that I was wet (and it had nothing to do with the stream of water shooting overhead).

Though I didn’t orgasm, I did take one small step in that direction. And definitely had a good time doing it.

The only real problem, I encountered was that, having worked myself up all I wanted to do at that point was hop back into bed and seduce my fiancé—but I couldn’t.

Funny how after all these years of ‘celibacy’ I finally decided to explore the art of self-arousal while still recovering from a bladder infection.