Have an Orgasm: It’s Good for You

I’ve been reading Jonathan Margolis’ O: The Intimate History of the Orgasm the past couple of weeks. The writing is sub-par and the editing is the absolute worst I’ve ever seen in published material, but the content was interesting enough that it kept me reading through the places the teacher in me would *love* to take a big fat red pen to. I learned some cool things about orgasms that make me want to encourage you to go have one–or several–today!

Random orgasm trivia:

-The explosive burst of nerve pulses travels at 156 mph (1).

-The rhythmic convulsions of orgasm occur at intervals of 0.8 of a second (56).

-On average, a woman is satisfied with 3-5 orgasms per sexual encounter (56). (So, men, don’t be jerks and think you’ve done your duty when you’ve given her only one.)

-Only 50% of women can reach climax through coitus (62). (I feel so very, very luck that I can . . . but if a woman can’t that doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with her, as some men erroneously believe.)

Your orgasm is good for you:

-An orgasm is as mentally and physically beneficial as a five-mile jog (79).

-Orgasms improve our breathing and circulation, cardiovascular conditioning, strength, flexibility, and muscle tone (79).

-Orgasms help us lose weight (79).

-Orgasms relieve the symptoms of menstrual problems, osteoporosis, and arthritis (79).

-The adrenaline released during orgasm helps break down glucose and prevents it being stored as fat (79).

-Regular orgasms can help you look  as much as ten years younger than your real age (79).

-Regular orgasms can reduce the likelihood of developing prostate cancer (79).

-Orgasms boost your immune system. The endorphins released following an orgasm boost immunoglobulin A (IgA), the antigen that binds to bacteria and prompts the immune system to attack them (80).

Ladies and gay men, your partner’s orgasm is good for you:

-The average ejaculatory volume contains about 60% of the American recommended daily intake for vitamin C (44). (God, I love this–Nico’s protecting me from colds every time I go down on him!)

-Contact with your partner’s semen has been shown in studies to act as an anti-depressant (80-1).

Don’t forget the traditional dating rituals:

-“A shared meal is a popular starting point for sex in human beings; it is interesting that oxytocin, the hormone of coupling and togetherness, flows almost as easily during an enjoyable dinner, thanks to a variety of sensual and intellectual pleasures on offer in ‘intimate dining,’ as during sex and subsequent orgasm” (29). (Wine and dine each other, people!)

Now, stop reading and go do something beneficial for your health 😉

That was an interesting way to wake up

This morning my orgasm woke me up.

Nico and I had stayed up late talking on the phone, finding ourselves in one of our playful-silly-sexy moods, the kind where we had each other laughing yet craving one another. We finally said goodnight close to 1AM and I fell asleep thinking about him.

I continued to think about him in my sleep. As morning neared, I was dreaming about him. We were on the roof of his pub (because, apparently, dream-Nico owns a pub) and soon enough we were having sex . . . and as I came in my dream, I actually came in real life.

That’s never, never happened to me before. I’d read that there was a female equivalent to a wet dream, but I’d never experienced it.

Sometimes I fear that I look like a walking cliche, the (slowly) approaching-forty woman who finds her sexuality awakened late in life. The woman who, finally freed from a bad marriage, drinks in her new-found sexual pleasure frenetically. Maybe I am a cliche; I don’t know. All I know for sure is that during all those long, lonely years of my marriage, the plotlines of every single one of my sex dreams somehow managed to get disrupted right before penetration. Even in my dreams I didn’t have a good sex life! But now I have a sexual partner with whom I have some amazing physical chemistry, and our sexual relationship is so incredible that he makes me orgasm when he’s two hours away and I’m fast asleep.

If that’s a cliche, I’m happy to be living it.

Sans Drama

It seemed like for the past five weeks some sort of drama came up for Nico and me every single weekend. Me being wounded because of his issues with my ex, him being wounded because of my decision not to move to Metropolis after all . . . oh, and let’s not forget, the wonderful Nicole moving into his house while her house closed bit.

And, yes, there was probably more to talk about with the whole Nicole thing . . . okay, there *definitely* was more to talk about . . . but I didn’t feel like it. I wanted one drama-free weekend just to enjoy my boyfriend.

So that’s what I did this weekend.

We went to the movies. So pedestrian and normal and wonderful. And then we had sex. Dear god, we had sex. I probably came fifteen times before he was even inside me. And then, as I sat on his lap, we came together so hard that we were both screaming.

Yeah, it probably would have been smart and logical to talk about Nicole boundaries . . . but I’m so glad we spend our time screaming instead. We needed it 🙂

Here’s why I love him

I officially confess it–I love this guy. There are so many awesome things about Mr. Nico, but here are some of the reasons I love him:

1. He texts me, every morning, just to say “good morning.”

We live 84 minutes away from each other, so there’s no way he could be there every morning to start the day with me. Yet he’s usually the first person I wake up to, and sometimes the texts are sweet, sometimes they are goofy, sometimes they are erotic . . . but it’s always him, starting my day with me.

2. He’s willing to drive around a metropolis for an hour just to find a cool wine bar when I suddenly decide I’d like some wine.

And the awesome part is, driving around the city with him is one of the best parts of the night.

3. He sends me texts that say, “I just smelled Chanel No. 5. I thought of you ;)”

Okay, a lot of guys might smell their girlfriend’s perfume and think of her. But, the thing is, Chanel No. 5 is what I used to wear. When I was like 15 or 16. And he still vividly remembers the smell of me twenty years ago. That rules.

4. When we were at the store, he saw a Thomas the Tank Engine pillow . . . and stopped. And said we should get it for my boys.

He knows the things my boys love, and he can spot them as he quickly walks past an aisle. God, I can’t tell you how much it means that my kids matter to him.

5. He’s so smart. Maybe smarter than I am.

Yesterday I made a joke that I’d spent the day in a special level of hell–a little girl’s sixth birthday party. And he made a joke about thinking that must be the fourth circle of Upper Hell. He can throw out Dante just like that. And randomly quote Shakespeare, too. I love it.

6. He lets me be weak when I need to be.

I’m usually a bad ass, managing a million things at once, but sometimes I just need a soft place to fall. And he wants to be that place for me, loves being that place for me.

7. He makes me laugh. All the time.

When I’m feeling silly, when I’m angry, when I’m sad, when I’m finishing an orgasm . . . my god, he just has this ability to make me laugh. He’s the most hilarious person I’ve ever known.

8. I make him laugh. All the time.

I may have even made him laugh in the middle of hearings. Twice. I love his laughter.

9. He pushes me, in the best of ways.

In every aspect of who I am, he pushes me. When I’m on a philosophical rant about gender equality or education funding or Ecuadorian produce, he pushes on my arguments, making me sharper. When we’re in bed, he pushes me beyond my pre-existing limits (which is OH so awesome). He makes me smarter and funnier and sexier. Just being around him makes me a better me.

10. He’s home.

He’s the place I feel homesick for when I’m away from it, the place I always want to get back to, the place where I can cuddle up in a blanket with my furry socks on my feet and feel completely content. Mr. Nico is home.

And that’s just the beginning of all the reasons I love him 🙂

A Blog about a Penis

So last night or this morning . . . I’m not sure which one it was; they both kind of blurred together in alternating spurts of short naps and lots of orgasms . . . Mr. Nico and I were lying in bed talking and somehow blogs came up. Mr. Nico has followed my G-rated blogs from my first blog post years ago . . . but he’s never read this one. (You know, because I never gave him the URL. Because I’ve written so much here about *him* and I didn’t feel like exposing my teenaged-girlish moments of “I like this guy so much that I am singing!” to him.)

He started asking me some questions about this blog, like if I’d written about him (to which I answered “of course”) and what his pseudonym was (to which I didn’t answer because I felt like a dork admitting that Aristotle was the first thing that let me know that I really was into him). And then he asked, jokingly, if I’d written about his penis. I said no.

But his question got me thinking, maybe it is time to write about the penis.

So here it goes . . .

Sexual experiences with Mr. Nico are *amazing*. Intimate, passionate, and OH MY GOD he is such a giver. I’ve never been with anyone like that before, someone who loves to have his hands and mouth in and on me for HOURS. SO hot. But . . .

But. I always knew his penis was on the smaller side (c’mon, I’ve know him for more than two decades, so a girl sees and hears things along the way). And I worried about that because, well, I’ve enjoyed being with larger men. The cool thing was, though, that something about our bodies fit really well together and I swear to god that the second he was inside me for the first time I was having an orgasm.  And it’s like that every time he’s inside me–I’m there in seconds. The problem, though, is that he is too. And while I could keep going (for hours), he can’t. Even worse, sometimes it’s hard for him to get inside me at all because he’s not quite hard enough, no matter how many fabulous things I’ve done to get him ready.

Sigh.

I love that he loves to do whatever he can to give me pleasure. He’s relentless. Last night and this morning I think I had twenty-something orgasms. I’m SO not exaggerating. I have this insatiable sexual desire, and he has this insatiable desire to please me. It’s . . . awesome. And yet I find myself longing to have him inside of me, for more than just five minutes out of all those blissful hours.

I’m not sure how to feel about all of it. I know that his erectile issues have nothing to do with his attraction to me and that there are other physical causes for it. And I’m incredibly grateful that he loves to do all he can to make me feel amazing. It seems so selfish to want more, and yet I still miss it and long for it.

He talks about it–sometimes jokingly, sometimes apologetically–and I love that he feels comfortable enough with me to talk about it. He’s mentioned the idea of trying Viagra. Maybe he will, I don’t know. What I do know is that I will never pressure him to take a drug. Because, in the end, I’m so happy to have such a generous lover that I could never feel right about pushing him to give me more.

And that’s the penis story.