Before you start reading my sex-blog about squirting.
I suggest you read my column in The Huff Post about my journey through female ejaculation.
Then this blog will make more sense!
I have not squirted for twenty years...
until this morning.
But before I delve into my INCREDIBLE sexual experience -- let's backtrack.
When I was 17. I was smoking weed at a friend's house. I became quite stoned and was offered their spare room, to sleep it off.
As I climbed into bed, I began to masturbate and within minutes I was experiencing female ejaculation.
What I couldn't get over, was the 'full relief' I felt after squirting compared to standard clitoral or g-spot orgasms.
"This is how men must feel EVERY time they cum"
Then at 21, I met this BEAUTIFUL man. I refer to him as the Cunnilingus King. My god, did he know how to eat pussy!
He made me squirt twice during our fuckbuddery and then he went and got married and spoiled all the fun.
So, in a nutshell, I've been trying to SQUIRT for the last twenty years and have failed.
But I had no luck.
Acting in independent films allowed me to express my sexuality... to a degree.
But what really PIERCED the vein -- was writing.
For the first time EVER, I found a space, where I could be ME.
And the more columns I wrote...
the braver I became.
Suddenly, it WASN'T just sex columns that were pouring out of me but..
Sex poems were pouring out of me.
Erotic erasure art was pouring out of me.
Sex blogs were pouring out of me.
Sexual collaborations were pouring out of me. See here & here.
Sexual photo shoots were pouring out of me.
A one woman show on sex and rape was pouring out of me.
I was 110% authentically ME and it was BEAUTIFUL.
Now, to last year -- March 2017.
I packed up my life and moved to the other side of the world -- London.
I trained at the esteemed London Actors Centre and performed my one woman show in the West End.
After 6 months in London...
I had lost my savings
my Facebook Page,
my one woman show (due to poor ticket sales)..
And I had to fly home to Melbourne with my tail between my legs.
I felt incredible shame and embarrassment.
I felt like a failure.
Between October 2017 and February 2018. I left the house once. I pushed everyone away. I deleted all social media. And I drowned.
The only thing that could make me FEEL anything at all was MASTURBATION.
I would masturbate between one to eight hours a day in TRUE hypersexual fashion JUST TO FEEL SOMETHING.
Via daily self-pleasure. I have not only become multi-orgasmic. I've become spontaneously orgasmic.
Which means I can orgasm in a bank or in a shop or on a walk. You can read more about my spontaneous orgasms here.
Just like how I healed myself from sexual assault via sex. Well in recent months, I've been able to heal my heart and soul via masturbation.
Back in May, for the first time in 8 months, I started to feel my happy self again.
I bought a ticket to Vietnam and travelled for a month.
And now I'm back in Melbourne, with a great lust for life, my career and lots of orgasms.
This morning... after, looking at some erotic art from the 1800s. I grabbed my we vibe tango and started having a diddle. I really had given up on squirting.
As the intensity rose through every cell in my body...
Instead of taking the vibe off my clit, I deep breathed myself through each contraction.
And that's when it happened.
THE SOAKED BED SHEETS.
I was in a state of such joy and shock.
I burst into tears.
Not little tears.
LOUD SOBBING MOTHERFUCKER TEARS THAT DROP LIKE THUNDER BOLTS.
It was worth the twenty-year wait.