Turns Out, I Actually Can Have Multiple Orgasms

Up until a month ago I thought I was a one and done gal. By that I mean I thought I was only capable of having one orgasm per session. On rare occasions, I’d be able to climax twice if my partner hit it right hours after the first crescendo, but even then it was a stretch.

I’ve poured over articles. I’ve studied. I’ve taken notes when my girlfriends have talked about this. I’ve tried to achieve round two, round three, and a bonus encore with no luck.

I’m a divorced woman who has been dating for the last decade and I’ve had a few different sexual partners. I’ve talked to them all about the fact I’d love to have seconds and thirds, but it’s never happened for me.

They are always up for the challenge, but they always fail.

I thought my body wasn't capable of refills and I thought I had to live that way. I’d be so sensitive after the first pop, that even being touched again wasn’t comfortable. It didn’t quite hurt, but I wanted to be left alone because, well, if the fondling isn’t going to end in fireworks, then I don’t want it.

But then? Oh, then I had a moment that turned into a trilogy with a man I’d been seeing. I was relaxed and comfortable when the foreplay began which is usually the case, but something about the way he was touching was … different.

It’s not even that he was doing anything special. There was no trickery involved or some special formula that involved counter clock wise turns or special moves with his tongue.

His pressure was just … a touch lighter. Almost left me waiting at first. I almost said, “harder, faster”, but I didn’t because I knew my body and my body was telling me not to worry, that I would still get mine.

And I did. Again and again and again. It was a gift that kept on giving, a full-bodied yes, proof that my body was an over-achiever.

So while I’m sure you don’t want specifics (just kidding, of course you do. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?), I'm going to give them to you anyway. I’m doing the Lord’s work here.

You’re welcome.

I was on my back, he was lying next to me tending to me with his fingers. It’s worth repeating that the pressure was light. Not so light that I couldn’t feel it, but light enough I wanted a little more and I put my hips into it, if you know what I’m saying.

The focus wasn’t only on my clitoris, but it was in the general area the entire time.

After the first explosion, he stopped touching me but only for a moment. There was no talking, just kissing. He didn’t peel off his knickers and announce it was his turn.

He just got back to work with the exact same pressure and motion. Now normally, this is where I’d brush his hands away, tell him I was all set because experience has shown me that I’m not like a tin of Pringles (ahem: once you pop, you can’t stop).

But what he was doing felt so good, so right, and I didn't want him to stop. My lady bits weren’t sensitive, they wanted more, I wanted more. And even though he could tell I was buying what he was selling, he didn’t start touching my vagina like he was trying to beat a microwave countdown. His pace and pressure was the same: soft, consistent, steady, light.

Just perfect.

The second wave of pleasure came faster than the first, and while he told me after he was quite pleased with himself, at the moment he didn’t act like it.

No, he acted like it was his job to make my pussy meow. I know that had a lot to do with how open and willing I was feeling.

The third climax was weaker, but still wonderful, and I was shocked that I still wasn’t ready to close my thighs.

That night changed my life. A new standard was unlocked and the only problem is I will accept nothing less than a trifecta every time.

So if you’re feeling left out here are the cliff notes: relax, tell your partner you want clitoral stimulation that’s steady, low pressure. Tilt your pelvis a bit if you want, and make sure the attention is on your clit and the general area. Don’t let them wander too much. The focus should be on you the entire time and after you’ve erupted, they should give you a few seconds, just a few, to get ready to explode again.

Think cruise control, not sport mode.

Send this to them. Hang this on your fridge. Whatever it takes.

After all, I’ve waited a long time to experience pleasure like this and I don’t want that to happen to you.

Diana Park is a writer who finds solitude in a good book, the ocean, and eating fast food with her kids.