So here's the thing: Because I write erotica, read a LOT of it, and watch porn on a regular basis, I am fully aware that female ejaculation is supposed to be the epitome of orgasms and that there are tons of guides out there on how to do it and/or get your partner to do it, and yay look how fucking awesome we women are for controlling our sexual prowess and blah, blah, blah.
I've now squirted like four times in my life? Give or take one. Last night was the most recent, and it continued to be.... well, not awesome.
Every time I've done it before it's been during actual sex and with a partner I was fluid bonded with which meant there was a nice body that um got most of the output and that he would also be nice enough to contribute his own bodily fluids so when we were finished it would be hard to tell who left what liquid, and we'd just clean up as usual and move on with our evening.
Even then, I was aware that for me, personally, the orgasms that triggered this were not as pleasurable as others I've had. Like most women I've talked to, my orgasms vary in intensity from the ones that are basically like sneezing (you know how sometimes you just really have to sneeze and then you do? You feel better cause the tension is gone, but it's not something you're going to write home about later) all the way up to the ones that make you actually lose consciousness for a second or two. The best ones are right below that intensity where you almost, but not quite, pass out. For me these can last several seconds and tend to include aftershocks and just all kinds of bliss and happiness. Anyway, the squirting kind is nice and all, but they don't last long. So that's my first issue with them.
Last night I was with a new guy. He's super amazing, and we were enjoying our first time getting naked together. We weren't having sex yet; instead he was digitally manipulating me.
I hid under the goddamned pillows.
Ha! If you said yes, you clearly are not familiar with my brain when it's in an embarrassed state.
Even worse, if you couldn't tell from above, I don't want it to be a normal part of my repertoire.
Fortunately at this point my communication skills reasserted themselves, and I was able to convey that this wasn't a normal thing, and I was stressed that he'd be sad if he never had that again with me. I conveyed this clearly by using a highly specialized technique of getting him to cuddle with me in the spoon position so I didn't have to make eye contact and then mumbling and repeating myself at fractional increase in volume every time he said, "What?" until the message was conveyed.
He responded to this by telling me that I was awesome. My body was awesome. Everything we'd done was (wait for it) super awesome, and he was just thrilled to be with me and that it was fine if that particular moment didn't happen again because there'd be other moments that would be cool.
And that, dear readers, is why the new guy is just like Ryan Gosling's sweater.