Climaxes, coming, The Big O (God, I hate calling it The Big O). That thing that apparently happens at the height of pleasure, when everything is just right and the cosmos unravels within you and poof, you come.
Or something to that liking.
I read a post by Fleshbot maven Lux Alptraum, posted on her personal Tumblr. In it, she talks about the years she spent not coming due to being anorgasmic. She also mentions that orgasms are not a yardstick to measure the amounts of pleasure you’re having with.
And I completely agree with that.
The world has apparently conspired to make us believe that the humble orgasm is the be-all and end-all to sexual pleasure. It HAS to be had, otherwise the sex you just had might as well be declared null and void. It’s a sad state of affairs that we believe this, because it’s so far from the truth it has to use binoculars to see the actual truth.
I have sex because it’s a good way of getting close to my partner. It’s soothing, it’s enriching and above all, it’s the most fun I have with my clothes off. And it is fucking fun. Like, seriously.
But it doesn’t mean that all our steamy sessions end with both of us erupting in an orgasmic explosion of… orgasmic explosive stuff. Because it’s not what we aim for. In fact, I’d be surprised if ILB said he aimed for anything other than just having a damn good time. Because it is what I want out of sex.
Sex is about having fun. And not about thrust, thrust, stroke, is it in yet, it’s in, oh I’ve come, have you? If you have sex with the sole purpose of having a smashing orgasm and nothing more, I don’t think you’re doing it right. There is so much more to sex than just orgasms, although they are of course a pleasant cherry on the cake. Sex, to me, is about connection. About release, about giggles and butterflies and most of all, FUN.
I’m not dissing orgasms, no sir I am not. I spent a long period of time unable to orgasm because I was on antidepressants. In an amazing stroke of bad luck, this happened not long after I started masturbating. I was just getting to know my body when it kinda conked out on me. Lux states in her post that she never felt broken or incomplete in the years in which she couldn’t come. But I kinda did. Especially since I was so new to the entire experience of masturbating and coming.
Like Lux, I don’t mean to demean the orgasm or indeed the female orgasm (that apparently mythical beast), but I don’t think it should be the measure of a successful bout of sex.
That said, I do hope you, dear reader, have some mind-blowing orgasms in your lifetime. Because… you know.. orgasms. Just don’t make it the sole aim of your sexual explorations. Because you’d be missing out on a hell of a lot of fun if you did.