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Let’s talk about the first time I came. My first Big O moment. Honestly, it is a story worth telling.
I think I was 16 and a senior in high school. By this time, most of my classmates are talking about sex and the joys of having sex. We’ve played never have I ever and divulged some of our private moments to a classroom full of people, and of course, sex definitely came up. To be honest, I was kind of jealous, my school mates made sex out to be this great experience and of course, the big O was an even greater experience if you’d manage to have it.
So I tried to give myself pleasure. Who better to do something for you than yourself? No one. I’d flicked, rubbed, tweaked and prodded at my clitoris, but to no avail, I didn’t even feel any pleasure. Instead, I had my hand in my pants just to be kept warm because I wasn’t any closer to an orgasm than if I was just sitting there reading a book.
To combat my failures I did some research. Where did I find this material to study from? Porn. Now, around this time I was also writing smut, because really, I wasn’t having sex so the only way to write about it is from reading other books and watching porn. Go figure.
The glorious day it happened I was reading a book beforehand. And it so happens that my hand meander it’s way into my pants. All of my attempts before had left me in pain, so this was a win-lose situation, either I get it right or have a sore pussy. I took the plunge anyway.
I’d hit a right spot and found a rhythm I liked that had my back lifting off of the bed and my hips gyrating, vigorously. My left hand instinctively went to cup my breast, kneading each mound as I administer my clit with my right hand.
My eyes were closed tight and I swore I saw sparks behind my eyelids. I’d never experience something like this before and it was definitely something I thought I missed out on.
When I got closer to my big release my back bowed, my toes curled and it was like fireworks went off into the sky. I grew lethargic and ever so slowly my back lowered to meet the mattress and my toes uncurled one by one. Not even two minutes later, I’d passed out. It was one of the best sleeps I’d ever experienced. I was thoroughly rested and sated. Now I understand why The French called it “la petite mort,” in that short moment I thought I’d die from pleasure.
Eventually, I started craving the feeling even more. The second time I had an orgasm was not as intense, actually, I haven’t had one that can top my first. As I grew older and more experienced I did have orgasms where I was able to fall asleep after doing the deed. However, a moment I compare with my first big release is the first time I experienced multiple orgasm . My hand would tremble and I’d feel so relaxed.
Honestly, having orgasms has been one way I relieve stress. I try to space out the times I have orgasms because I noticed the more frequent I engage the less intense they become. I try to make the feeling as close as possible to my first big O. But, like with all first time experience you can’t help comparing all subsequent experience after it.
I’m glad I didn’t give up on trying. Having that first orgasm has open avenues for me to explore my body and my sexuality. It allowed me to realize that I am a woman who can experience and give herself pleasure. Furthermore, I am not hurting anyone and it makes me feel good. So damn good until I pass out.
Pleasure Points is a writing series that talks about the body, sex and relationship. It features opinion pieces, narrative retelling and advice. If you’d like to stay tune to updates go ahead and follow. If you like this piece share to your social media!