You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Orgasm’ tag.

Sex is a challenging subject to summarize into a lesson, and I felt it was necessary to spread it out into three different parts.Part 1: “Pews of Desire”, I examine my earliest physiological experiences with puberty.Part 2: “The Pelvic Compass”, focused on the social dynamics of courtship and seduction. Those two lessons were essential stepping stones for the pen-ultimate experience of my sexuality… love.

Part 2 left off with this sentiment:
I needed to find a genuine identity that would be worth dating

That is precisely what I did going into High-School. I stopped chasing tail and focused on my own personality. The little socializing I did was conducted without ulterior motives, and was centered around my passion for heavy metal music and video-games. Freshman year quickly passed by and to my knowledge not a single woman knew I had a penis. Until the beginning of my sophomore year when a complete stranger slipped a note on my desk.

“My friend thinks your cute, if you ask her out she will say yes”.

A few weeks later I was in her friends basement and I reached my curious hands up her shirt and fondled her breasts. I liked this, and I hoped it was making her just as happy; but when I touched her vagina I realized: happiness shouldn’t feel that dry. Later that evening she brought out photo-albums and shared stories about her fondest childhood memories. I wondered what part of her body I could touch next, and as my erection subsided I actually started listening to her stories. I eventually figured out that she wanted a partner, not an enthusiastic diddle buddy.

Two lonely years later fortune struck again when I intercepted an online chat message on my friends computer. He assured me he had no interest in her and encouraged me to pursue at-will. Her screen-name was something like “Metalica chick”, so all I knew about her was her age, an interest in heavy metal, and a cute smile based on a black & white yearbook photo. Since I was in a heavy metal band I figured it was already meant to be. We started dating soon after that first chat and this time I did it right from the beginning. I listened to her stories, smiled warmly when she looked into my eyes and I kept my pervy hands to myself. After our official first date we spent the evening in a little park where I successfully escalated my way into her heart. We laid on a grassy hill looking at the stars and she took my hand into hers, placed her head against my shoulder, and she smiled at me in a way that seemed like she had been with me for an eternity. We shared our first kiss in that very moment and I knew immediately something I had never known before. This is love.

I couldn’t fully understand or rationalize this new feeling, but I was aware that something different was happening to me. We went on a spring picnic date near the lake in a spot where we couldn’t be seen and spent hours in our private garden of hormones. I felt how happy I had made her vagina and I told her that I was in love with her. She happily agreed to be my first ever date for a school dance. 

I had finally made my first note-worthy public statement in the social-dating world as I pinned a flower to her dress, took expensive photos in front of a cheesy school backdrop and held my date closely in my arms as we danced the night away. Everything was perfect accept a moment during the last dance she seemed a little sad about something. I knew it was my job to hold her close and make her feel safe. I did not sexualize her that night because I knew she needed a supportive partner to make her feel safe. The next date she was back to her horny-self, and gave me my first ever hand-job; this first was memorably concluded when she said, “Ewe! It’s everywhere”.

Our young love had also spilled out into the school hallways as we passed our special binder of love-notes back and forth five days a week. In those notes were three passages that I will never forget. The first referenced one of the greatest mistakes I have ever made. 

She wrote,
 “I wanted to sneak in the bathroom and give your first blowjob, but you locked the door and I didn’t want anyone to hear me go in”.
I wrote back,
“SHIT!!! I will never lock a bathroom door ever again!”

She wrote back with the second unforgettable passage,
“My parents will be out of town tonight come over and be my first, I’m ready bring condoms”

I was delirious with excitement and ditched school to go condom shopping. I spent the rest of the day in my room trying on condoms and watching the clock count-down towards the end of my childhood. I got a phone-call from a whispering girlfriend telling me to come over and wait silently in her backyard. After one hour, then two, and finally nearly three hours later her backdoor opened. She stands in a dark laundry room with wet hair and drops her bathrobe to reveal a sexy outfit. Before I could express how much this was moment is worth every trial & tribulation I had ever endured, she tells me the bad news. Her little-brother was still awake and in his room right next to hers with his door open. She devised a plan that I would wear her bathrobe and calmly walk into her room as if I’m her. Then fifteen minutes later she would walk in her room and hope that her brother would think she got dressed and was walking around the house. We looked nothing alike, and I feared the worst.

I followed her direction exactly and it worked. I lit a bunch of candles and we lost our virginity. I was loving, passionate and gentle as I climaxed quickly. I held her in my arms until she fell asleep and I snuck out leaving her a love note on the nightstand. It was the greatest night of my entire high-school career, and I was too happy to even sleep that night.

On the following date I was excited for round two sex. She came over to my house wearing the ugliest green velvet blouse I had ever seen; but its oddness turned me on and I looked forward to unbuttoning it. Sadly she was in a bad mood and I spent an hour relentlessly kissing a half-interested partner. I took out the condom hoping sex might cheer her up and she ignored the gesture but proceeded to give me my first ever blowjob instead. At the time I thought it was amazing, and looking back it was really just patch-over.

The next day, I got the the third unforgettable notebook passage when she wrote,
“Lets take a break”

I wrote her a long letter to declare my supportive intentions to endure this break and start over where we left off when she is ready. I figured we are in love how can a little break possibly threaten what we share. I went to our meeting spot and she was not there. We eventually crossed paths and as I approached her she was visibly holding back tears and kept walking. I discovered that she was back with an ex-boyfriend, and even worse that he is actually the guy she really lost her virginity with before she met me. 

The next day I approached her with a large envelope filled with our professional school dance ripped to pieces along with our binder of love letters with my autograph on the cover. 

Below my autograph I added this note:
“You can sell this when I’m a rich and famous rock-star”

I learned who her ex was and I instantly remembered them exchanging a long look at one another during that school dance. He was the reason she was sad that night, and I imagine him looking at a woman he loved dancing with someone-else and I know he felt the same sadness. 

Over-time I began connecting all these dots and red flags that had I intentionally overlooked. I slowly began to understand and accept that she was never in love with me. That is what makes this difficult, because everyone is the prince and princess of their romantic fairy-tale. We must accept the harsh reality that these fictions are only worth creating because we never know how it will end and who it will end with. But through all the mistakes, failures and dark days of loneliness we keep writing this story because you never know when you can finally write: “Happily ever-after”. Until then always write, 

“to be continued……”

Does anyone have a “Sixth Sense” story of their own? If so please share 🙂


Hi Avery, It has been a while since I wrote you, but I have been busy trying to learn about the  universe that we live in. It  is kind of a strange place, but in time, the oddness of most  things living can be understood with the right amount of patience and a pursuit of truth.

My studies have lead me to fantasize about your childhood and I like to picture what your process of discovery might be like; the first time you see a Hawk soaring above a distant tree line, you will be amazed by its sheer grace of flight, and the next time you may wonder, what does it eat and where does it sleep, and finally, the third time you might ask, what kind of Hawk is that? I imagine your curiosity functioning exactly like the very same evolutionary process that created our kind. Sometimes I think of these evolutionary ideas when people say, “It’s a small world”, or “What a coincidence”, and I think, maybe we just want to believe in the idea that something, anything, and everything can be that special, but I must admit Avery, I don’t think it is that special, and the thought of being a father makes me wonder if challenging that notion will be a part of my own  evolutionary adaptation.

For now, allow me to explain my current day logic, you see the modern human being is at most 200,000 years young, and living in a universe that is at the most 14 BILLION years old, calculates the significance of our species to being about ten-millionth of a percentile (0.0000145%). Also, I have been a sexually active post-pubescent adult for about 16 years, so that equals a total 5,680 days orgasmic existence. Lets assume I managed one-and-a-half orgasms a day, which equals 8,760 orgasms. If we multiply that by 70 million sperm, per ejaculation, that’s where you come in, my perfect, beautiful and amazing one-point-twenty-five thousandth of a percentile  0.00125%.

I suspect this can come off as being dark and cynical, but this math proves an empowering fact, that you have no control over the biological and geological tethers of  your existence, and you can always treat these factors as just that, scientific data. Av  ery,  be warned, for that our culture will trivialize these factors as  being significant in of themselves; but the secret they don’t want you to know, is that you don’t actually have to love your   biological parents, unless they earn it. Who, how and where you  are created is not in your ha nds, and I urge you to give cred it to those who do the work, instead of the ones that figuratively do nothing  more than flip a switch.


I’m ready to earn it Avery, and most importantly, I’m excited! Its time for you to transcend being the figment of my imagination, and become the next clump of self-aware molecules, and you should be excited too, because the universe is amazing and mysterious, and its also your home.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 17 other followers