This month has really has been female orgasm month! It has made me so happy to see all of the open conversations, insightful opinions and interesting discussions. It’s been really enlightening.

For me, much of this discussion has surrounded Channel 4’s documentary about the Super Orgasm, a mysterious phenomenon that I’m not sure I fully understand even after watching the show. I did, however, get to meet some of the women involved thanks to a Scarlet Ladies panel and learn more from them, allowing me to write up my thoughts on super orgasms last weekend.

Almost immediately after reading it, Desire Noire responded that she had a lot to say about orgasms, and that it probably wouldn’t fit into a 140 character Twitter conversation!

So, of course, I couldn’t resist offering to host anything she wanted to write on the subject and I am so glad I did because what she sent me is fascinating and brilliant.

Without further ado, here is Desire Noire, asking ‘what is super about an orgasm?’

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Orgasms, especially ‘super orgasms’, are very much a current topic, thanks to the recent Channel 4 programme and (certainly in my twitter world) following a very recent event hosted by the Scarlet Ladies in London, which sadly I couldn’t attend but thanks to the owner of this blog, I know some of what was discussed.

I was intrigued as to what a super orgasm was when I tuned in to the documentary. I was eager to learn what science could tell us about it. I was left frustrated that I didn’t learn much and that they gave the impression that anyone who experienced multiple orgasms was experiencing a super orgasm. I disagree, yet please don’t try to pin me down on the definition of a super orgasm because I’m as lost as you. In an effort to discover the elusive beast, I thought I’d throw my own experiences into the ring in relation to the mystical female orgasm.

I found writing this post very difficult. I felt exposed – why is writing this stuff down so different from talking about it? Anyone who knows me will vouch for my penchant for talking about sex. And I write for a living, but I write fiction and yes, snippets of real life sneak in, but mostly they’re somewhat disguised and besides, I write fiction – who knows whether I’m recounting something factual? I have a smokescreen to hide behind when writing fiction, however much it’s influenced by real life events.

Perhaps it’s my respect for the written word that makes committing my thoughts and experiences to text such a big deal. Maybe it’s the permanence – my words remaining after I’ve finished typing, whereas a chat over a glass of wine evaporates faster than my sobriety. Whatever the cause, writing this post has only increased my already immense respect for sex bloggers who lay themselves bare in the name of awareness and education. But without a willingness to open up and talk about such an important aspect of our lives, how are we to learn more? And to reach a wider audience than the people I chat with, writing down intimate details of my body and sex life is absolutely necessary (yes, that was my mantra whilst writing this!).

So why me? Well, I’m one of those ladies – or at least I think I am. Whenever I’ve raised my ‘weirdness’ with health professionals, including so called sex positive health professions, and sex workers, I’ve had mixed responses. I’m told I’m hyperorgasmic – for those of you now wrinkling up your nose at this unfamiliar term (and yes, I once did too), hyperorgasmia is defined as ‘the phenomenon of having an inordinate number of orgasms within a given period, as compared with a given criterion standard’. An inordinate number… very helpful, no? What constitutes an ordinary or, dare I say, normal, number of orgasms – and what’s the given period here?

I’d hoped that I’d find answers in the Channel 4 programme but sadly not, although it was inspiring to hear ladies with some of my symptoms speaking so candidly about their experiences on national TV. Viewing mostly served to further my frustration that research and understanding of the female orgasm is incredibly and frustratingly lacking. I mean, there’s not even a common acceptance of the existence of the g-spot (which, believe me, definitely exists!) – and don’t get me started on the belief that squirt is merely urine… Seriously, don’t – this post is long enough without me standing on my soapbox (squirtbox?).

One positive to come out of the programme was validation of my own belief that my attitude to sex and my speed and/or level of arousal were in some way responsible for my ability to achieve what they called the ‘super orgasm’. Like the volunteers, I get very aroused (mentally and physically) shockingly quickly. Let’s just say that lubrication is never a problem for me. Actually, that’s not true, it can be an issue when there’s too much – stealth sex is simply not possible, and spare underwear is always a good idea!

I love uninhibited, aiming-for-maximum-pleasure sex (okay, so I love all sex but especially this type of sex). I have a ridiculously high libido and because of that, I masturbate daily. From conversations with others, what I feel if I miss a day, is what many others feel after not climaxing for considerably longer than a day. It’s like an addiction to me – it may even be one, I’d have to check the definition of addiction!

In fact, that reminds me of my early teenage years which is where this all began. When I discovered masturbation inadvertently (because the only mentions of wanking I heard back then were in relation to boys – nobody ever mentioned bean flicking), it was because my ‘tuppence’, as my mother still called it, demanded attention. That feeling when you’re passionately kissing your partner and you simply cannot wait for them to slide their hand between your legs? You know the one, ladies! That was me as a virginal teen just lying in my bed, not thinking about sex or boys. It just happened – a compulsion to touch myself.

Self-exploration led to discovering that rubbing down there (I’d never heard the word clitoris) felt good. Then suddenly it felt very good. Then it felt epic. Then I’d feel compelled to do it again. And again. And… well, since I could climax within half a minute and because it felt so damn incredible, I could happily orgasm twenty times or more to the point where they’d become practically continuous. The drum machine intro to New Order’s Blue Monday? That’s what it’s like: O… O… O… O… O… O… O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O. You’re humming it now, aren’t you?! Sometimes, they’d even happen spontaneously after I’d stopped touching myself. Awesome, yes? Well, if that’s where it ended it would’ve possibly have been, but it didn’t.

Just as men have unexplainable erections at the most inconvenient of times, I began to get lady boners in the same way, and I just had to sate the urge otherwise it became unbearable. Perhaps the only good thing there was that I orgasmed with the slightest touch which meant that I could satisfy the need quickly with a visit to the ladies, or by squirming against the seam of my jeans. However, that could also happen when I didn’t want it to. Unfortunately, back in the 1990s, when I plucked up the courage to tell the nurse at my GP’s of my embarrassing and practically agonising situation, she hadn’t a clue. Yet it’s now 2017 and I asked my GP about this again and had a similar response. Why do we still know so little about the female orgasm? I guess the only way to change this is to keep talking, and to demand answers from those who are in a position to conduct badly needed studies.

Anyway, back to the past. In the early 2000s, the concept of Persistent Sexual Arousal Syndrome (PSAS) was formed. I was intrigued when I finally heard of it, courtesy of the internet, but was disappointed to learn not much is known about the condition, even today. When I mentioned it to my GP a good few years ago, she simply labelled it as female sexual dysfunction and dodged my questions about it, whether out of embarrassment of lack of knowledge, I don’t know.

When I spoke with female friends and colleagues about my orgasm situation, I got little sympathy and quite a few odd looks. I hadn’t realised how difficult it was for many women to achieve a single orgasm and that there was huge frustration from them that their partner finished first, either leaving them orgasmless or leaving them to take matters into their own hands. I felt like we were at opposite ends of a huge spectrum. I also remember how reluctant many of them were to talk about their sexual experiences – love and all things romance, yes, but sex, oh no! That was when men did with their mates in the pub, women talked about hearts and flowers, not having a massive unwanted orgasm in the fresh fruit aisle of Sainsbury’s and trying, I suspect, unsuccessfully to hide it from an elderly couple standing just inches away.

So basically, there I was in my late teens, sexually active and coming like the proverbial train whether I wanted to or not. Remember how quickly young men with limited sexual experience can come? Well imagine the scenario of him sliding inside you, triggering your orgasm instantly, which triggered his. Imagine his shame. Your shame. And worse, the sexual frustration that hung in the air until you couldn’t bear it and had to give him an ultimatum: that you were going to come at least a dozen times in the next ten minutes and he could either watch, or he could take part, because it was happening either way! That was usually enough to get the blood pumping into his cock again, but then it was like playing a game of Russian roulette: would we get past thirty seconds this time, or would it be another frustrating disappointment?

I tried spending longer on foreplay, but my hyper arousal just seemed to make things worse. In desperation, I decreed that my clit was off limits. Very quickly, I learned that it wasn’t just clitoral stimulation that enabled me to orgasm. I found that I could orgasm from nipple stimulation alone, that passionate kissing could bring me to the very brink of orgasm and that there are fabulous locations about my vaginal region that made me gush and squirt. Believe me, the first time that happened, nobody was more shocked than me. Nobody had mentioned squirting – and yes, like so many before me – and undoubtedly since me – I did think I’d wet myself.

Thankfully, his reaction was one of wonder, not scorn. He’d seen squirting in a porn film and was very impressed with himself for fingerbanging my g-spot and achieving it. Encouraged, I turned to porn to see whether any more of what I was experiencing could be explained by those people who were like me, and not like my friends (or so it seemed). I quickly learned that whilst there were similarities in attitude to sex, the women of porn didn’t orgasm the second their clits were touched, didn’t continue to orgasm over and over like a Duracell bunny no matter how hard they tried not to, didn’t orgasm spontaneously when it was damn inconvenient and the term multiple orgasms meant a handful – not upwards of 60 in under an hour. From studying women in porn I learned that physically, and I guess I mean visually, my lady parts are unremarkable. I can’t even explain my rogue orgasms on large labia rubbing together or against my clothing. My labia are tiny and so is my clit.

To be honest, I didn’t come away with the impression that porn is unrealistic, like some people think. It taught me that there was more to sex than the inexperienced fumblings of young adult males, and that confidence is sexy, not embarrassment and inhibition. Watching porn in an attempt to learn about my orgasmic affliction is how I ultimately became so unafraid to demand good sex from a guy. Okay, so I don’t stand there and demand that he fucks me into the middle of next week, but I’m happy to orchestrate my pleasure from a guy if I think he needs a nudge in the right direction and I cannot remember the last time I got embarrassed about anything during sex. And yes – for those of you shouting from the cheap seats – I’m equally happy to receive feedback on my technique! In fact, I actively seek it. You see, despite the driving force of my reproductive organs, I get pleasure from giving pleasure. I’m naturally submissive when it comes to sex and that is what ultimately led to my ability to control my uncontrollable orgasms.

I then had a relationship with an older guy after sexual experiences with guys of a similar age. He was nine years older (which is a bigger deal then than it sounds now. I was practically still a kid although legally an adult). He was a fully paid up Dom (a rarity since this was years and years before Fifty Shades was dreamt up). He wasn’t quick to climax, although I still went off like a greyhound out of a trap the second the dog saw the rabbit, so to speak. That’s when I learned that I could dehydrate during a decent sex session. Therefore, as well as ensuring I was kept hydrated, he suggested that I learn how to delay and ultimately deny myself orgasm until he said otherwise. I was still battling rogue orgasms at the time and was desperate enough to try anything.

Initially, it seemed impossible but he was very patient and although he was somewhat bemused by my affliction, he was understanding of my struggle (it was delicious torture – pleasurable, but a submissive seeks to meet challenges and earn praise),yet he was confident we’d find a way. We did, and fascinatingly, it was purely mental technique that enabled me to master it. The psychology of the D/s dynamic (carrot and stick in its simplest form) and my sheer bloody-mindedness led to progress, little by little. Training my mind to lose its aroused state, is essentially what took place.

It became easy to do in isolation, but the minute I suspected he was about to lay a finger on me, my arousal would surge and my focus would be lost. He quickly recognised that a more complex carrot and stick approach was required. So he decided that if I allowed myself to lose focus, he would withdraw all attention. Anyone who knows how the D/s dynamic works will identify with the psychological effect of this. Submissives crave attention, not just sexually, but emotionally. In other words, he switched to the long game. In addition, he told me I couldn’t masturbate. Bastard!

After what felt like years in hell, which was actually only weeks in reality, I became a master at keeping focus because I craved his attention more than I craved release. Once I’d synchronised myself fully into the reward cycle it got easier and easier, as my focus shifted from arousal to validation and reward. The physical symptoms of my arousal would still appear but I could prevent orgasm until I received my reward. Interestingly, the resultant orgasm would always be huge and obviously, this served as a bonus prize. I’m sure those of you who edge know something of what I speak.

In fact, edging became the next logical step. At first, I’d edge myself to the very verge of orgasm using my new-found ability to put the brakes on – and yes, that’s what is was, like stopping my arousal in its tracks. Once mastered, he’d edge me until he gave permission for me to come. For the submissives out there, this will be familiar territory for many, and they will be smirking with memories of their own when I say how ‘mean’ a Dominant can be at pushing us to our denial limits: they’re unforgiving in their torment, as we writhe and plead for mercy until we get our reward. And I absolutely got there, the holy grail, the point at which I could hold off my first orgasm indefinitely no matter what stimulation was inflicted on my mind and body. The second was somewhat hit and miss, and for each subsequent orgasm, it got increasingly difficult to maintain focus, to the point where after four or five, I’d be coming like the Blue Monday intro again. This is where I doubt a potential diagnosis of PSAS – a purely psychological resolution of unwanted symptoms hasn’t been documented. It seems unlikely, therefore that my affliction was PSAS – but medical science doesn’t seem to have another explanation – yet.

So nowadays, I have choices. I can edge, I can deny indefinitely (but only the first with total reliability), or I can do a Duracell bunny – or any combination thereof. What I don’t have is a concrete definition of why I’m not like most other women, or whether they too could be like me. What I also don’t know is whether the super orgasm exists. In fact, all this talk of orgasms has left me with so many questions:

Does coming a certain number of times in one session make it a super orgasm (as the documentary implied) – and if so, what is that magical number? Is climaxing over a hundred times in the space of an hour (or until I blackout) using only my fingertips on my clitoris mean that they’re super orgasms? What about orgasms that begin although I’ve stopped touching? Or orgasming to the point where it’s continuous and counting is impossible? Or that I can orgasm spontaneously when I bend to take food out of the oven? Or even when I just think about having sex? Or when kissing? Or as can happen anytime, and definitely after denying myself, experiencing an orgasm so intense that my body shakes and I can’t suck air into my lungs and I lose consciousness? I can assure the French that there’s nothing petite about those particular morts! So, is intensity what defines a super orgasm?

Are all the above super orgasms? Is anything that deviates from the ‘norm’ a super orgasm? Or does the super orgasm not exist? Are multiple orgasms just that, whether you have half a dozen or a hundred in one session? I think what matters more than answering all of these questions, is that we acknowledge our differences and share our personal experiences to encourage others to do the same. I don’t say that lightly, after all I’ve admitted how exposed I felt writing this post. But I believe that opening up the debate further and demanding more scientific research is the only way the mystical female orgasm (including orgasm dysfunction) will be better understood. In fact, I’m quite prepared to donate my body to science when my grand mort comes along. Till then, I’m eyeing up the current world record of 134 orgasms in an hour. Seems doable, if I put in the practice *wink*

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If anyone else has any other thoughts on orgasms, or actually any other sex-positive subjects, and don’t have anywhere to write it, do get in touch about guest posts. I’d love to host you!