How many times can you really orgasm?

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In purely scientific terms, an orgasm is simply a contraction of muscles. The genital muscles, to be more specific. 

 

And because women don’t have a refractory period — a fancy term for “recovery” — it turns out we can orgasm again and again and again… and again. Most of us know this fact simply as the gift of multiple orgasms. Unfortunately, though, it seems to be quite an elusive gift. According to some studies, only as much as 15 percent of women claim to have orgasmed again and again and again in a single go. How unsatisfyingly low a number, to say the least. 

 

(Also, side tangent: can we talk about the irony of a gift that leaves us rearing to go when our male partners will cum and be done?) 

 

Anyways, the following may come as a bit of a brag (and why not!?), but I must admit that the divine feminie gift of multiple orgasms seems to come naturally enough for me. Sure, there is a catch or two. For instance, at least in the beginning it could not be shared. For years I could only reach multiple orgasms alone. And then there’s also the fact that even today, while I’ve managed a few ‘multiples’ with my partner, it’s never, ever just with their divine anatomy alone. There’s always an extra hand or toy involved. Always. 

 

In any case, I was fairly young when I first discovered this gift. Mid-twenties, alone in bed (of course) with just myself and a vibrator (purple, I do remember). At the time, I had never heard of multiple orgasms or refractory periods. I didn’t know women could bounce back so easily after an ‘event’. So when I came again after the first time, I surprised even myself. But it didn’t stop there. Beyond any logic that had been taught to me about the female anatomy and our potential super powers, I managed to reach what I would call five “levels”. Levels, because I didn’t have another word for it. And because it seemed that each orgasm got increasingly better than the one before it. As if I were climbing, climbing until–AH! There. Divine bliss. 

 

After my session, I was both awed and confused. Then, when I asked my girl friends about it, I got vague responses. Skeptic looks, even. “Five orgasms in a row?” They would say, heads titled. That just couldn’t be so.

 

Well, it was so. And for years I insisted, implored even, that all women go on a journey to discover their own levels. Mine, I was convinced, was comprised of five. 

 

But then, in my early 30s, something even more… dramatic happened. Again, while alone, in bed… this time though with just my hand and some peppermint oil mixture I’d whipped up at home (by that point it had already been years since I had forgone buying iffy sex creams or gels from stores, instead choosing to make my own). What happened that day made even me, the five-level girl, a little skeptical. Because from a previous plateau of only a handful, I suddenly got to two — two handfuls, that is. Yes, 10. That day, I reached ten levels all on my own. More than that though, I think I could have kept going. In fact, I had to actually force myself to stop; peel myself, sweat-drenched from the bedsheets because my knees were so achy and wobbly and sore. 

 

Reaching level ten was like opening up a new dimension; unfurling some kind of string theory, freaky-deaky shit. It expanded my event horizon, if you know what I mean. And now I’ve taken it as a kind of challenge, to expand it even further. Like, just how many times can you really orgasm? Is that even a question that needs an answer? As if words and numbers were only serving to limit the potential we could up-level ourselves.  

 

Well, since that two-handfuls incident, I’m proud to say that I’ve been able to break this record. Once, quite recently I reached the number 11. Yes, eleven. After that I stopped counting because… seriously, it was all too insane. It defied everything I thought I knew about a good orgasm. But the pattern was similar. Once again I did it alone, with only the help of that same hand, same peppermint mixture (yes, we were smart and turned this magic juice into a product… #mintbush). And this time too, I had to stop myself. Was it at 15? 16? I have no clue. I just remember thinking it was all madness. And perhaps even a touch unfair, that I should have all this, when some women have yet to have just one. 

 

Which begs the question: do we all have different levels within us? Is it just a matter of anatomy why some of us have ended up in the double digits, while others still await their first? Or, is it a matter of mind? That some of us have yet to learn about the female power over refraction? 

 

To be honest, I don’t have an answer to these questions either. Because, I’m still just trying to figure out, dumbfounded, how my hand, some herb, can make me cum so goddamn much !

 

 

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