Ten Types of Female Orgasms
The one that may or may not have happened. My room was dark save for the light flashing from my computer screen. Reggaeton beats bumped from the speakers. I watched bodies grind against each other–the way an ass can circle closer and closer, the way a groin can thrust, the way my hands against my clit felt warm and wet. I didn’t know what was happening but I welcomed it fully.
The one that happened after he rolled over in bed, his face to the cement brick wall, the condom thrown on the ground. Take care of it yourself, he mumbled, and my fingers fumbled, the bed was shaking, and I was still in college, and this would be my sex life for the next ten years.
he one that happened when I was in the shower despite the fact I hate cumming in the shower, my wet hair heavy and weighing me down and the hot water always runs out too quickly but I knew he was coming home so I had a loud orgasm even though I’m usually quiet and I just wanted him to know that my body existed, my cunt still existed, I still needed.
The one that happened after he anally raped me. I thought about all the lube, the slickness of it, the hurt of it. The way he tried to force me to gag on his filthy cock afterwards. I’d like to pretend I don’t know why I lower myself to masturbating this, but I do. I hate myself and use my rapist’s cock as a method of self harm, over and over. Or, I don’t think I deserve good sex. Or maybe there is just something really wrong with me. It doesn’t matter. I make myself cum. Sometimes these orgasms are the best I’ve ever had.
All the ones I pretended to have along the way. I’ve always been a feminist. I don’t believe in faking it. But, there are some men who need to make women cum but it’s really just another form of their selfishness manifested. It’s not about us or what we want, it’s about their prowess. I can’t beat these men off with a stick. So yeah, I’ve faked it. And if you’re wondering if I faked it for you, yeah. I fucking did.
The one that happened after the first sexual encounter I had in five months, the longest I have gone as an adult without sex. We had been on several dates and he had alluded to sex (and the Marquis de Sade.) Although these parts of our conversations disgusted me I wanted to know if he was capable of dominating me. I believed him when he told me he’d respect my boundaries and not try to have sex with me when I went to his house for the first time. And before he did just that we were on the couch watching tv–the way he reached for me, needed me, me on top of him and his muscles under my hands and the hours I spent teasing him and despite it being 2024 and me deep throating his humongous cock (I literally screamed PUT THAT BEAST AWAY! when I saw it,) he refused to eat my pussy. That’s ok. The orgasm I had when I got home was so strong, I shook so much that a glass fell off the edge of the bathtub when I came. Earthquake orgasm. The best orgasm a man has ever given me.
The one that lies in wait, the burning distraction of it, the lack of focus. I cannot work or write today. All I can think about is what a bad idea it would be to kneel before his cock and that I am slowly becoming aware of the fact that I am going to do it anyway.
The ones that happened after he conscientiously cancels our plans at 9:22 on a Saturday morning, telling me that he wanted to do so early so I could plan my day accordingly. My hair went unwashed, I didn’t clean my home, and I didn’t write. I pressed myself against a hitachi magic wand over and over throughout the weekend, two, four, six, eight, orgasms. I owned the toy for years but hadn’t discovered how to orgasm with it until recently. I remain confused by the contraption, how much it both numbs and addicts me and how I buckle and have to ride out the orgasms. I had already learned that if I went that long I would end up in significant physical pain and yet I couldn’t stop, I laid on my couch with the blinds drawn and I came and I came and I cried and I cried and why is it that you couldn’t see me? Why was I so worthless to you? And why was the first orgasm so weak despite the fact that I waited for it, saved it for you?
The one that happened after he rejected me after criticizing all my tattoos on a dinner date and telling me it was a choice to show him my naked flesh. In the past I may have used his theoretical penis in some psychic self harm over the following weeks, months, years. In the present I came and got it over with. He was only one man, he significantly lied about his height, and I knew I would move on (not until I displayed my tattoos to everyone I’d met, coworkers, other men, strangers, seeking some form of validation I would never really receive.) But I was confident the pain would fade someday, or I would get distracted by some other pain. I was sure there would be other men. Maybe one of them would even like me.
The ones I described when I completed the intake paperwork for the kink-friendly therapist:
How do you feel about/what’s your relationship with orgasms?
Do you orgasm and what is your favorite method of achieving orgasm?
How long does it take you to achieve orgasm if someone else is stimulating you?
And I have been in therapy my whole life and I have been a therapist and never had I been asked
or asked these questions* and quite honestly I felt invaded but I completed the
paperwork anyway because no one in my life understood, not even the object of my
desire understood, my need to submit even if sex** couldn't be involved because of his
STD status.
I love orgasms. As a society, we overlook the power of orgasms–how they can help us
navigate situations. Sometimes I am overcome with the need to orgasm and I can’t focus
without it. Sometimes I force myself to orgasm when I don’t want to, a kind of self-harm.
I cum telling myself I’m a worthless piece of shit. Sometimes I’m uncomfortable
orgasming and I disassociate while doing so.Historically I have only cum through manual self-stimulation. I owned a magic wand for
years and I appreciated it but it never made me finish. No man ever made me finish. I felt
like an impenetrable wall. I recently discovered a combination of clothing, angles, and
want that led to a wand orgasm. Now I like it because it doesn’t agitate my carpal tunnel
and I can be disconnected from my body while doing it. I still think I prefer my hands,
although I can’t remember the last time I touched my cunt with them.No man has ever made me cum.
*Although, I have heard about both men and women's’ genitals and their problems with their genitals. I have also heard extensively about their sex lives.
**How do you define good sex?
Good sex occurs when I feel desired and am able to remain present in my body without dissociating … of course when it is safe and there is no violence involved.
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Callie S. Blackstone writes both poetry and prose. Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net. Her debut chapbook sing eternal is available through Bottlecap Press. More information is available at calliesblackstone.com.