Reagan Williams | Contributing Writer | 1,145 day ago

Female Ejaculation Can Be Fun - Until It Starts Happening All The Time

The Debrief: What began every fifth time we had sex, because every third time, then every other time. Soon, every time we had sex we had to change the bed sheets

I don’t think I’m alone in saying that I’ve always hoped for a talent. It didn’t matter what it was, but something performance-based would be naturally preferable. Imagine just opening your mouth, Paul Potts style, and be able to sing beautifully. Contemplate a situation where you read a few lines and you’re somehow the most magnetic stage presence since Vivien Leigh. The glamour of being good at something teamed with the drama of not even knowing it would be too much to handle, and I imagine most would go quickly mad with the power stardom would afford. 

At 24, years after I had given up on having a hidden talent, I discovered mine. My inborn, divinely ordained skill is this: I can come like the dickens. Everywhere.

Female ejaculation is a little like the unicorn of sexual experiences, in that it is more often heard of than seen. It affects so few women in real life that I’d wager we wouldn’t know about it at all if it weren’t for porn or that one episode of SATC where Samantha was a lesbian.

READ MORE: Male Ego Vs Female Orgasm. What Men Are Really Thinking When You Come 

I still struggle with whether I somehow trained myself to do it or whether it was ingrained in me all along. It all began a little over a year ago, when after much cajoling, my then-boyfriend admitted that his ultimate fantasy was squirting. I winced. Partly because ‘squirting’ is a horrible term and partly because it just didn't seem fair. Here I was, willing to fulfil every fantasy from nurse outfits to light butt stuff, and here he was, telling me that all he wanted was something that was biologically impossible. He might as well have said, ‘You know what turns me on? Black chicks’ and then waited for me to turn four shades darker.

The trick was to will yourself into peeing as you were having sex. Your body would then reward your faith by letting you gush hot clear plasma all over your boyfriend’s crotch.

But I was a good sport, and for a short while, we made it our mission to catch the unicorn. We read up on it. The trick was, according to numerous sex bloggers, to will yourself into peeing as you were having sex. Your body, in all its infinite wisdom, would then reward your faith by letting you gush hot clear plasma all over your boyfriend’s crotch. This is deemed nature’s gift to you both.

We tried it a couple of times, and with no sign of anything beyond your garden variety wetness, we gave up and forgot all about it. Well, I forgot all about it. It’s probably a safe bet that his fascination continued in private, so as not to remind me of my biological shortcomings.  And then, several months later, during a fairly routine sexual inspection, it came. I came. Everywhere.

After that, there were three people in our sexual relationship. Me, him and the unicorn. A naturally competitive guy, he tried to provoke me to come as much as he could. Partly because he thought it was sexy, but also partly due to him wanting to best his own high-score every time we had sex. How much, how soon, how wet. And it got out of hand.

What started as an egg-cup of tepid liquid became a mug full. And not an ordinary mug either, more like those big joke mugs that say ‘World’s Greatest Dad’ on them.

While at the beginning it happened one in every five times we had sex, the more the muscle was used, the more willing it was to be used. Every third time. Every other time. And soon, every time we had sex we had to change the bed sheets. What started as an egg-cup of tepid liquid became a mug full. And not an ordinary mug either, more like those big joke mugs that say ‘World’s Greatest Dad’ on them.

 

READ MORE: Squirting: In Which We Explore That Most Elusive Of Sexual Reflexes 

Come cools rapidly, and soon we were just going to sleep in chilly, soaking sheets, or no sheets at all. My body started doing it as soon as it was sure it was having sex, and pretty soon it was no reflection on how much I was even enjoying myself. It was as immediate and unthinking as an erection, only with far more clean-up.

Anyone I told about this acted as if I were complaining that my fifties were too big for my wallet and my diamond shoes were too tight. A few girlfriends accused me of humble-bragging. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry you’re having explosively wet orgasms,’ they would say. ‘I mean, it takes me a bottle of wine and two vibrators to orgasm at all, but yeah, real sorry for you.’

The thing is, it wasn’t as if the orgasms themselves were amazing. Sensation-wise, they’re actually pretty underwhelming compared to a ‘dry’ orgasm. While dry orgasms (I really can’t think of a better term, and I’m sorry) are more of a slow scenic climb to a peak, wet ones are more of a sudden avalanche. Like a real avalanche, it’s a little numbing. You get that same post-sex, ‘Right, I wonder what’s on TV’ mental clarity, but without the tension-building road trip to get there.

 

In fact, I almost resent my vagina for thinking it’s too cool to involve me in its plans. 

It’s still pleasant, don’t get me wrong, and both my current and previous boyfriend feel as though they’re the sexual equivalent of Indiana Jones for provoking it. But it’s not something I would miss too much if it disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. Overall, it feels very separate to me. A skill my vagina learned in a night class that it didn’t deign to invite me to. In fact, I almost resent my vagina for thinking it’s too cool to involve me in its plans. 

None of this really bothers me: it’s just a series of small gripes about something that ultimately has been a major turn-on for the two parties that have experienced it. But what does bother me is the use of the word ‘squirting’. It’s a term that belongs to the world of porn, and while sex and porn can have a chat over the garden fence, you should never walk into one’s house expecting the other. Female ejaculation is rare but natural: squirting across a room full of masturbating actors is not. 

On the scale of impressiveness, my in-born talent is only slightly above being double-jointed, and slightly below having an identical twin. And while all three probably have their own dedicated niche within the porn industry, I have resolved to continue leading a civilian life, and shy away from the glaring spotlight the fame my ability will afford. No matter how tempting being the Paul Potts of Coming might be. 

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Tags: Sex, NSFW, Sex O\'Clock