I remember discovering that if I rolled up my pillow and got on top of it, I could hump it into climax. I didn’t know exactly what it was I was doing, but there was something instinctual that led me to think I better not tell anyone about it. When I got bored with the pillows I moved on to my stuffed animals, my favorite being a Fival Goes West plush that was the same size as me. I was probably about seven years old.
There was something so simple and unreserved about my humping habit. And as I got older the fear and anxiety that I was doing something wrong, naughty and even punishable if caught began to grow. Unfortunately this happens to most of us.
I lost my virginity when I was thirteen and it took me until I was twenty-one, to have an orgasm during sex. Making myself climax was one thing but I had no idea how that shit was supposed to work with somebody else! I thought it was the man’s penis that was supposed to make me cum. I had watched a lot of cheesy chic-flicks and the people would be going at it and then the woman would cum. I figured my vagina was broken and maybe I was just anther one of those girls who don’t have a g-spot, and oh well.
In high school my girlfriends told me about the shower head and the tub faucet. I was able to cum like that and soon found myself the cleanest lady on the block from all my showers and baths. They told be about “back massagers” and after I had some ridiculously amazing orgasms, I conclude that those machines were Never intended for anyones back.
I’d had a boyfriend in high school. I was sixteen and he was twenty-one. We’d done some pretty kinky shit in bed but unfortunately no orgasms for me. We’d done it in most every position. He tied me to the bed. I tied him to the bed. Blindfolds. Feather-dusters. Stripper stilettos. French-Maid. You name it.
But when I brought the toys to the bedroom he got totally skeeved out. One night I worked up the courage to bring the “back massager” to bed. I was really irritated with having endless orgasms without him and never any with him. We got into what I like to call an Open Spoon position. I got on my back, him on his side, one of my legs draped over his him and the other laid out so I would have room for his dick and the orgasm machine. I turned it on, he felt his dick vibrate through my vagina and that was the end of that.
There was a second attempt with a cock ring/magic bullet combo I bought at a porn shop. It took me thirty minutes to convince him to put it on and thirty seconds for him to rip it off. That relationship ended and with no real mystery as to why.
Sex was still fun for me and I continued to have sex with no climax, and climax with no sex. I know the humping worked from my pillow days but it didn’t work when I was on top of a guy. He always went too fast or found a way to move me ever so slightly off my sweet spot. That combined with my acute anxiety of what I looked like trying to hump a dude’s groin made it so I never felt comfortable enough to cum, even if I was on the sweet spot.
I was eighteen in my dorm-room when a truly serendipitous thing happened. The batteries died on my magic bullet. Normally in this situation I would take the not-so-dead ones out of the remote control. But those were the very batteries I was already using. I was really horny and not in the mood to be wondering around in Walmart or 7-11 at midnight so I could get my solo freak on. So I did what any logically girl would do. I used my hand to rub one out. It felt really naughty at first and then it worked! I came! I was so proud of myself. I felt like I’d been freed from the confines of orgasmic machinery.
I masturbated like this for about a year until I had the courage to incorporate it into the bedroom. Same story different guy. I was twenty-one and I was having sex with the boyfriend-du-jour all the time and never climaxing. What I find interesting about this whole “courage” thing is, I have never had a problem having sex, being naked, saying dirty things, or just generally going outside of the average sex box. But for some reason to touch my clitoris during sex felt so wrong. Not dirty-wrong. But incorrect-wrong. Like, he is the man and he should do it. Or, his penis should give me an orgasm from the inside. Eventually I realized, like most things in life, if you want to get something done you’ve got to do it yourself. I was just going to have to get over myself and touch my goddamn clit while he fucked me.
This was such an epiphany for me. He was on top. I reached down and rubbed my self and it was glorious. it was the first time i had ever orgasmed during sex. And lucky for me he really got off on it too. Soon after, I got some more confidence and demanded boobie suckage while I played with myself. Then for the next twelve months we had sex just like that. Him on top. I played with myself. Boobie Suckage. And Guess what? One day it got boring. And then it didn’t work. He sucked and sucked and I rubbed and rubbed and all we were left with was one sore jaw and two sore wrists (cause my right one cramped and I had to switch to my left).
Sadly, for many reasons, this relationship ended too. But I walked away with the confidence that I no longer had a broken vagina! I could orgasm during sex. I carried this confidence with me to my current relationship and now at twenty-five I have figured out ways to orgasm by humping his leg, groin, playing with myself, playing with myself in doggie-style, and the creme-de-la-creme; I figured out how to have a hands-free orgasm while on top!
When I break it all down, I realize its quiet a complicated equation. Most of the orgasm is in my head. If I’m not comfortable, its not going to happen no matter how many of the right buttons are pushed. The other major part is the actual pushing of the buttons. Which is eighty percent me, seeing as I can’t suck my own tities and I get such a thrill from penises. The other major factor in this, was realizing that it’s no big deal if I don’t get off every time. Sometimes hormones or stress or whatever sneaks in there and there’s no point on piling even more stress onto the situation by thinking that my vagina’s broke. The last major factor, although I don’t like to admit it, is age. With age comes stronger hormones (the good horny ones), knowledge of how my body works, confidence in my own sexuality, and lots and lots of miles on the clitometer. And there you have it, the female orgasm. Mystery solved.