Throughout my relatively short history of being sexually active I’ve managed to accidentally injure partners (e.g. Kneeing a partner so hard in the crotch that they fell off the bed and onto the linoleum floor.) and myself (e.g. Tweaking my bad knee during orgasm induced leg tremors.) Usually I find this stories hilarious and am prone to spouting them off in situations that are perhaps less than appropriate but last week I had an mild masturbation related injury that I found myself too embarrassed to share. The issue is that telling anyone about what happened would result in me sharing that I violated one of my personal sex/masturbation commandments: Do Not Try To Force An Orgasm. Sometimes It Just Doesn’t Happen But You Can Still Try To Relax And Enjoy The Ride.
The night in question I was stressed out and just wanted to spend some quality time with my
best friends vibrating wands. I took out my Mystic Wand, hoping to use its softer vibrations for a more relaxed, quiet event than if I used my “We’re Not Supposed To Call It Hitachi Anymore” Magic Wand. After getting comfortable and setting the appropriate mood I switched on the wand, ready for the Me Time that I’d been needing all day. Pretty early into it I had flipped the power up all the way in an attempt to get the sensation I’d been expecting. This was the point when I realized that there was a strong chance I was not going to orgasm. I know my body and it was clearly telling me that it just wasn’t feeling it today.
I’ve recently started new medications that from the beginning I knew would likely impact my sensitivity and could change how I orgasm. Although I had this theoretical knowledge I wasn’t expecting to confront it until farther down the road. Being hit with the sudden thought that my orgasm of four nights earlier might have been my last orgasm EVER was less than pleasant and because I have the personality of an unnervingly determined Jewish grandmother I decided that I. Was. Going. To. Have. An. Orgasm.
If someone came to me with this scenario my advice would probably be something along the lines of, “Well does it still feel good when you’ve got the wand on your clit? It does? Ok then! Enjoy that sensation, relax, try to let go of the orgasm fixation and remember that it’s all about the journey, not the destination.” The issue is that I only offer advice to people who ask for it and I was not asking for advice. Rather I was asking for, no, demanding an orgasm. So instead of taking a deep breath I plugged in my Hitachi, a toy I fondly think of as the Hulk Hogan of my sex toy drawer.
With an intensity that I usually reserve for a nice Reuben sandwich I had that big ol’ wand on my clit because dammit I wanted that orgasm. Right before I reached the point where the wand was going to remove layers of skin I stopped, groaning not from pleasure but with irritation. As I tossed aside the wand my right wrist had a blast of sharp pain that flared up at any movement of my wrist. In my determination to “finish” the damn job I had completely ignored the wrist cramps that came from holding my wrist in one position for the entire time as my hand gripped the wand with a fury from the deepest part of my soul.
For the rest of the night I went about with a throbbing wrist, shouting at me for being a stubborn old bastard. At service the next morning my wrist groaned when I had to hold the hymnal with my right hand and when I tried to pick up my after-service coffee I had to set it back down before I got it to my lips. Two days later the stiffness was still there, a reminder of my poor decision.
There’s an embarrassing epilogue to this cautionary tale. The afternoon after fucking up my wrist I gave it another try. I made sure I was properly hydrated and actually relaxed before opening my sex toy drawer and settling onto my bed. And you know what? I fucking came. It was slow getting there but I took my time, made sure my body was into and enjoyed every minute from start to finish.
And the next night’s orgasm was even better.