The drive back from the party that night was tortuous. My partner and I had been apart for six long months, both studying in different cities and sustaining our sex life through late-night phone calls and steamy Snapchats. Our long-awaited reunion was finally here and honestly? I just wanted to get home as quickly as possible and undress each other.
Our connection has always been strong. We’ve been together for four years, having started dating as high school sweethearts and though our mutual respect for one another and a passion for adventure have deepened our connection, lust has always been a central theme.
That night, I was wearing a bodycon dress – one that showed off my curves and made me feel confident. And it helped that I was fuelled by liquid courage. The closer we got to his flat the more the anticipation built. We both knew something extraordinary was coming.
Giggling like teenagers, we held each other's hands in the elevator, and the sexual tension between us was palpable. Then, we were inside, kissing, hands all over each other and suddenly, it happened. His kisses and caresses were intoxicating, every touch igniting my skin and in the heat of the moment, an intense orgasm washed over me.
The immediacy and intensity of that climax were beyond description, both breathtaking and mystifying. It took a few minutes for me to regain composure because I felt like I couldn't bear the slightest touch – which was an unusual but exquisite aftershock.
We entered the apartment and tried to have sex but I pushed him away. Me having to recover from what had happened had broken the momentum and had kind of left me dry down there and what we were trying to do felt painful and intense. We ended up not doing it.
I’ll admit I initially felt discomfort rather than joy. I mean, who expects to climax before the main event? I felt oddly embarrassed, like things had happened the wrong way round. We are told that female pleasure is supposed to advance gradually to a crescendo. But for me the crescendo was where it all started.
I found that the same thing began to happen again and again. I'd orgasm before sex after barely touching, and the time I took to regain composure really disrupted the flow, preventing us from having penetrative sex. Desperate for a solution, I looked online and found advice that suggested I should stop for a moment when I felt I might orgasm to prolong the experience.
This advice transformed my sex life. I began instructing my partner to pause whenever I sensed that a "touch me not" orgasm was imminent and I only allowed the feeling to continue when we were fully touching each other and having sex. This simple adjustment allowed me to have not just one but multiple mind-blowing orgasms, not only with my boyfriend but with a few other partners as well.
I discovered that accepting this new type of orgasm was a significant step towards accepting who I was. It was a shift from the initial uneasiness into an embrace of my new-found superpower.
I now feel like my orgasms – the "touch me not" kind and the kind I experience during penetrative sex with a partner defy social expectations and they empower me to embrace the full range of the female experience. They serve as a reminder that every woman experiences pleasure uniquely and personally and rather than feeling ashamed, I’m here for that.
