the key is on my nipple ring

I am Addicted to Faking Orgasms… September 5, 2010

…and I have been in recovery for a very long time.

I was fortunate to come of age in the late 60s/early 70s. The “Sexual Revolution” was in full swing, the prevailing philosophy was one of peace, love, and rock ‘n roll, and the scariest STD was gonorrhea. On the downside, there was no Internet, no alt.rec.sex usenet group, and no Dan Savage. Books on sexuality were few and far between: Human Sexual Response (1966) by Masters and Johnson—not really a “how-to” manual; The Joy of Sex (1972) by Alex Comfort—I tried to take this one out of the library and the librarian refused to sign it out to me because I wasn’t 18!; and Our Bodies, Ourselves (1973) from the Boston Women’s Health Collective which was useful, but covered a lot of stuff, not just sex.

In other words, I was adrift in a sea of sex without a compass or sextant.

I became sexually active just before I turned 16 with my steady high school boyfriend. We broke up my freshman year in college (we were long distance at that point) and I used those four years in college to my full advantage. I used to say that sex was/is the perfect recreational activity for college students: it is a great way to pass the time, it is a lot of fun, and it is cheap. What more could anyone ask for?

I thought, as everyone did at the time, that vaginal intercourse was the pièce de resistance and the way to have an orgasm. For sure—whoever I was with—we’d fool around and do stuff (no sex toys, though!) but the grand finale of any sexual encounter was getting fucked. The guy would pound away and come, I’d feel some twinges and that was that. I thought those twinges were an orgasm. In those days, ignorance was bliss.

I wish I could remember the first time I had a real orgasm. I was probably in my late twenties and it happened by accident but the actual experience was real. Suddenly, I realized that while the “little twinges” were a nice prelude, they were no substitute for the real thing.

It took awhile, but I finally came to understand and accept these truths about myself: 1. I am never, ever going to have an orgasm through vaginal intercourse. No matter how much I want it or how much I will it, it’s never going to happen because I am not built that way. Given that some experts estimate that this is true for 70% of women, I am not all that unusual. 2. To have an orgasm, I require direct and prolonged clitoral stimulation with a vibrator. Fingers and tongues, pleasant as they are, are not sufficient. I used to be embarrassed about my dependence on a vibrator. In fact, I once had a person tell me that I had “dulled” my clitoral nerve endings by being too dependent on a vibrator. He said that I should “wean” myself from the vibrator and I would be able to achieve an orgasm through manual stimulation. (Guess what? He was also feeding me the line that he could do it.) I have come to realize that this was a bunch of bullshit and I have made peace with my vibrator need. Heck, some people need hearing aids to hear. Is this any different?

So now we get to the faking orgasms problem. Note that I said above that I need prolonged stimulation. I have no idea how long this is (I am a pretty clinical, quantitative person but thank God I manage to keep my eyes off the clock during sex!) but it feels like a long time. That’s not necessarily a bad thing during the experience (for me) but it was a problem if I felt like my husband was getting bored. See, I was still laboring under the impression that what was best for him was getting his cock in there for a good old fashioned fuck. So, the routine would be: fool around, vibrate Dev to orgasm, finish with penile penetration. However, if the middle step—vibrate Dev to orgasm—was taking too long, then I would fake an orgasm so we could get to the last act of the play. Stupid, I know, but it became a habit—a very bad habit, and one that was hard to break. That is why I said above: I have been in recovery for a long time.

What I have realized over the past few years is that not every sexual interaction needs to end in orgasm, for either one or both partners. Since I am writing to an audience of male chastity practicers, their keyholders, or wannabees, I am probably preaching to the choir here, but I still think it’s an important point that needs to be made. For years, I believed that I had to have an orgasm, every single time, and if I couldn’t have a real one, I’d fake it. Now I know that’s not true. An orgasm not achieved is not necessarily a bad experience.

So how does this play out in a male chastity context? Let me see if I can put these thoughts together in a way that makes sense. I think that as a woman, I am probably not all that unusual (well, maybe I am, but I don’t think I am!). Women don’t wake up with erections. We don’t have wet dreams. Having an orgasm is much more of a learned behavior rather than an instinctual one. Once we learn how our bodies work, we can find exquisite pleasure in that long, slow build up to orgasm and our eventual release. We can also find pleasure in the build up that might end without release—I know I do (now that I know not to fake it).

Men, on the other hand, operate differently. They like to shoot and they are socialized to believe that this is the be-all and end-all to every single sexual encounter. But there is a certain segment of men—those who wish to be chaste—who see beyond this myth of ejaculation supremacy. They want to feel the exquisite agony of denial. They want to go through—maybe?—what we ladies go through? That long, slow build up with eventual release? Or no release? Maybe a component of chastity is a brain re-training process. Just like I got into the habit of faking orgasms, men are in the habit of ejaculating—because that’s what guys do. But there are men who see the desire and excitement in not orgasming through ejaculation and work to achieve that. How? Some just in their heads. Others with a device.

I am going to stop for now but don’t worry, I’ll be revisiting this topic, because it is of great interest to me—and fundamental to the sexual relationship that Ab and I have. It’s taken years, but I am slowly sorting things out.

Comments are welcome.