Therapist Blog

50 Shades of Orgasm

50 Shades of Orgasm

I didn’t have any when I was a child, I didn’t even know what it meant. No one ever said anything about rubbing up against things or some of the other methods I have heard of since, and I certainly didn’t touch myself – that too was unheard of in my family! Now I know there are lots of sizes and flavors and levels of intensity. My earliest and only “sexual” memory from childhood was a girl friend and I playing doctor with scotch tape and our pants down. We were caught and shamed by her mom. We were maybe about six.

At 11 years old, I began bleeding and had NO idea what was happening. My mom saw me cleaning up my underwear and brought in a book, an elastic belt, and a box of pads. In a scolding voice, she said, “Now, don’t let any boys touch you!”

50 Shades of Orgasm

What was that supposed to mean? I knew a boy I liked (I still know him) and when I told him what she said, we decided to touch little fingers and see if that would bring on the bleeding. When it didn’t we held hands that summer and had our first kiss on my 12th birthday. During the late 50s and early 60s, the boys didn’t know any more about sex than the girls. There were NO sexed courses in our grammar school or high school.

When I was 14, I was kissing more than one “boy” but letting only one “feel me up.” I liked it. By 16, that same boy and I were petting as well as necking (one meaning touching and kissing, maybe even sucking below the neck, the other below the waist). We only would do it for a short time, and it felt good, but we didn’t go farther even when I was 18 and 19 and still with the same partner. Our sex play stopped with mutual masturbation, and once in a while oral stimulation, but never all the way to orgasm. Clearly, we were saving ourselves for marriage and we did NOT want to get pregnant

I was sure that if it felt too good when he touched or kissed me, inside or out, that I would be punished! We both would be. Our parents made that quite clear, although I do not recall the actual words. We were making plans for our wedding when he got called to Viet Nam. It was a dark and sad time, I cried at all of my girl friends’ weddings, it seemed like there was one after the other

1969 became known as the ”Summer of Love” and I met the man who would become my husband. We set the wedding date for right after my September birthday. We didn’t go any farther than I had with my boyfriend, although it was very tempting. Good catholics that we were, we agreed that sex (meaning intercourse) was to be saved for the marriage bed. I still did not know any thing about an orgasm. When I felt something extra good was about to happen, I would stop and pull back – knowing that if I went too far there would be some point of no return, kind of like falling off a cliff, not something I wanted to experience. I was lucky that both of these young men respected my wishes to stop when ever I wanted to stop. Consequently, both were less interested in necking and petting than I was. I liked the sensations and wasn’t looking for some sort of climax, still didn’t know what that meant. To be continued …