Unzipped #1: Unlocking Transcendence
A sexy peek behind the curtain of how orgasms can create massive shifts in consciousness.
Welcome to the first in a new monthly series called Unzipped! You can look forward to something extra juicy. These sexy stories will turn you on and teach you the power of your eroticism. Let’s turn up the heat.
We can all agree that orgasms are great… but did you know you can use them to heal and transcend? Orgasms can literally clear old emotional residue from your body. You can get fucked and get free in the same session. Curious how this works? Read on.
This is a story about a recent transcendent orgasm that I had with my lover — and an unwelcome visitor.
It’s a Sunday afternoon (because Sundays are for sex). We’re deep in pleasure, and I feel his fingers dancing on my skin.
My lower lip is quivering. He knows my body like the back of his hand, and it turns him on to see me turned on. Goddamn, how did I get so lucky?
We’re playing the countdown game where he slowly teases an orgasm out of me, counting down from, “10... 9… 8… 7…” to urge me into peak pleasure.
It’s a fun, kinky game to play — as long as there is no expectation of orgasm arriving once your partner says “1.” (When it does happen, it’s pure synchronicity.)
It’s during this sexy countdown game that I have an irksome memory arise from a messy situationship with another man.
In the memory, I’m sitting naked on the edge of his bed. We’ve just had sex for the third time in three months. When we started seeing each other, I was definitely wanting more. This frequency was not enough for my appetite. In other loverships, we could have sex three times in a day. Wasn’t this supposed to be the honeymoon phase??
That wasn’t the only thing that wasn’t working.
He has cum three time: once for each time.
I had cum zero times. ZERO. I am very orgasmic — when given the chance. (Hello orgasm gap. I see you seeing me.)
Except once he’s done, it’s over. And then he mansplains about what the refractory period is for a man as his reason. Le petit mort (the little death). I get it. You need to recharge until you can go again.
In each of those sessions, he never tried to get me there. I’d made kind requests which he resisted. But then it had become a pattern of only one of us crossing the finish line. When I expressed my desire, he’d made it sound like next time he’d be “less selfish”.
This was round three. I’d had enough.
“What’s a girl gotta do to get an orgasm around here?” I finally ask, exasperated.
“Do it herself. I’m busy working here. Most of the girls that I’m with are younger, so they watch porn and just know that they need to do it on their own.”
Not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. His words were like a knife that cut twice.
When I told him about another loving partnership and how he would make me cum every time, he scoffs. SCOFFS.
“That’s not something a king would do. That’s a jester thing to do.”
I’m sorry, what the actual fuck?!?!?!?
It felt like a slap. I had my lube in hand and was primed to bring myself to orgasm right then and there — until his words caused me to contract inside of myself.
Shields up. He would not have the pleasure of watching me.
THIS is the line that has returned to haunt me during sex with my beloved:
“That’s not something a king would do.”
No. I vehemently disagree.
My king wants nothing more than for me to cum.
My king would never outsource the role of pleasuring me to another man.
My king makes me cum. If you don’t make me cum when given the chance, you’re not my king.
“6…”
A king makes his queen cum.
When this thought lands in me that Sunday in bed, it’s like something clicks into place. The belief is being laid like tracks in my being.
“5…”
Just like that, I feel the orgasm enter the field in slow motion, in all her glory. After being kissed, stroked, spanked and fucked, I can feel the finale take shape ahead.
“4…”
“A king makes his queen cum.” The thought makes me hot. Not just sexually, I literally feel a heat emanating across the expanse of my back.
“3… 2… 1…”
And then the orgasm lands. It comes on strong and takes me over for several minutes — is this the longest orgasm I’ve ever had?!
I writhe like a woman possessed. He watches me dripping with pleasure, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
After it passes, I’m dizzy, malleable like putty.
Let’s unpack this, shall we? Here’s what I believe as a somatic sex witch:
Pleasure is good medicine.
Orgasms are healing.
With pleasure, we can literally unwind trauma from our cells.
When I was visited by the ghost of lovers past, I was confronted with a belief that was not mine and taking up space inside of me.
I met a memory of a man that made my skin crawl. Instead of pushing it down or changing the channel, I recognized the wisdom of what this visitor was here to teach me. I pulled on the thread. I followed where it led.
My body, in her infinite wisdom, brought this memory forth. It had been floating on the periphery for a while and needed to be cleared. It was asking to be released.
You’ll notice it didn't get cleared from bitching about it with my girlfriends, or from sending him a nastygram, or from talking it through in therapy. (Although I’ve done two of the three.)
You’ll notice it wasn’t my mind that made it so. It was stored in the body, and it was released through the body. I breathed. I moved. I sounded. I let the pleasure alchemize the ick into gold. The orgasm, once a hazy mirage on the horizon, materialized and transformed me.
I believe that the heat I felt was the dissolution of this encounter, evidence of the toxicity leaving my body. Not unlike a fever burning off the infection.
Sex, to me, is like embodied meditation — with a memorable ending.
If a thought comes, I let it.
If it goes, I let it.
Pleasure, like the tide, comes and goes. Surrender and see where the current takes you.
If this story leaves you thirsty for more, I invite you to schedule a 30-minute discovery call with me, your resident sex witch. It would be an honor to support you on your erotic journey!
PS: In case you wondered what happened with mister-no-fucks-given, I left what was supposed to be a romantic weekend away, gave myself three orgasms in a row after arriving home (how’s that for king energy — rather be my own king) and broke up with him shortly after. He texted me on Valentine’s Day a few weeks later. I had already met someone new. Bye, boy, byeee.
PPS: If I hadn’t decided that no orgasms were a no-go for me, there’s a reality where I could have chosen to stay in a relationship with this man out of duty or obligation. Thank the goddess that I got over the idea that it was my job to fix him.
PPPS: One more for the books: “I can’t figure out why my relationships don’t last,” he said to me, that same weekend this went down. Seems pretty clear to me. Just sayin’.
I have also suggested to her that maybe a short time apart would be good for both of us.
I love this. It speaks to my frustration. Being married 36 years I’ve never experienced any transcendence. Going down on my wife is a non starter. Most men and I’ll admit in my case cannot make a woman come through intercourse. Foreplay and plenty of it is so important. I wish my wife would allow me to make her cum repeatedly 😣 !!