Orgasm Addict

Oh, I am a nasty, slutty whore. I'm going through one of those phases at the moment where I can't keep my mitts off my mimsy. I keep grabbing every spare moment when my husband leaves the house to fit in a quick magic wanding before work.

The irony of it is that orgasms used to be such an area of difficulty for me.

I'm 34 now, and it wasn't until my late 20s that I learned how to have an orgasm. And it *was* a learning process. I felt like such a massive freak, not being able to cum. Every time that orgasms came up during girly chit chat (talking about them that is, I'm not referring to a massive lezz session. Although... ) I would feel like a fraud, and try to find some way to exit the conversation without lying or confessing my inadequacy.

And that *is* how I used to see it. As a flaw in me. As my body not working properly. Or me being too mental. Broken. Stamped with a big 'FAIL' over my aunty mary.

I put such pressure on myself that I gave up. Rather than trying, then constantly failing, I gave up trying altogether. Attempts by myself, or partners, made me feel stressed and miserable. Everyone else seemed to achieve it so naturally...so effortlessly.

Then one day I just snapped. Bought myself a rabbit vibrator and just went for it. Looking back now, I'm not surprised I'd never cum before that day. I'd never allowed myself to fantastise about anyone but my partner. I'd never been at ease with my own body. I'd never owned a clitoral vibrator. I'd had few lovers, all of whom were inexperienced.

It took a few goes. I had to learn not to get uptight about it. I also had to learn not to be scared I'd wee myself. A few towels sorted that out. And then suddenly - one day...oh my god. It was like a bloody cork out of a bottle of champagne. For the next few months I practically wanked my clit off.

Over the next few years I came to think of orgasms as something I had by myself - not something to be shared as part of sex. I could only cum using a vibrator on my clit; and I only knew one way of cumming. I tried a couple of times to introduce it during sex, but we both felt awkward and uncomfortable. Again, I felt like a failure, with bits that didn't work properly, and had to be stimulated mechanically, like some sort of broken doll.

But over the last couple of years I've learnt so much about my own body, and the way my sexuality works. First, I learnt what it was like to let someone else bring me to orgasm. Then I learned what it felt like to cum, not as an end destination, pressured, but just as part of ongoing sex where everybody may or may not get to cum at some point but it doesn't really matter if or when. Then I learned that other things make me cum, too. That it was possible to have more than one kind of orgasm, and that different things could bring it about.

I also learned that having partners who were not worried about it, who would happily enjoy my orgasm if or when it happened, but were not focusing on that as the be-all and end-all of sex, was extremely liberating. And I started having orgasm after orgasm, different kinds, in different ways, during sex. I learned to just....be.....during sex, without thinking - well, anything at all, really! It's taken a lot of experimentation, different people teaching me different things. I had quite a turn when I started gushing for the first time, for example. I thought I'd suddenly become incontinent. I was rather alarmed.

I've also needed to learn not to give a damn about how I look, feel, or sound, during sex. Noises and liquids and god knows what coming out of my body, and I'm just relaxing into that now, really, instead of getting really tense and worried like I used to.

The last few years have been a pretty steep learning curve for me altogether. I used to blog regularly on livejournal, and I was reading through old entries dated back to 2001. I was actually looking for a 'guide to orgasms for girls with difficult mimsys' blog I'd written, after my first orgasm, but sadly couldn't find it.

I was struck by the picture that emerged of my life, just reading through titles of blog entries. For so many years, I was such a sad, scared, lonely girl, just struggling constantly to keep my chin up with the weight of the world on my shoulders. I was carrying so much baggage, so many burdens. And gradually I let them all go, one by one. I used to hate by body and my face, and myself. And now, I wouldn't swap my life, my body, my face, for anybody's at all. Because they are mine. They belong to me. And those I choose to share them with.

Yeah. Things are good. :-)