Erotica

Popping My Orgasm Cherry

Experimenting to discover what pushed my buttons was a whole lot of fun.

When I was at college, a friend of mine got hold of an ancient porn movie. One of those from the era when porn was all about men with huge cocks and women with a perm where their slit should be.

The film told the tale of some chick who could only orgasm when a guy’s dick was in her throat. Yeah, you get the idea. At the point when most of us gag, she would climax. I suppose one could say a typical guy’s fantasy. But then again, handy for the gals if their man craves a lot of blow jobs — I don’t think I have ever fucked one who didn’t — and then tends to fall asleep after shooting his load.

Anyhow, my mates all laughed at the porno, even the guys, but it fascinated me. I knew it wasn’t true, but it also gave me hope: the idea was out there that not everyone gets off in the same way. I already knew I was one of those people and set myself the challenge to find out what turned me on.

Let me explain…

When all my girlfriends began chatting about ‘self-care’ and learning how great it was to give yourself an orgasm, I tried too. Even purchased a few sex toys to help the cause, but no matter what I did, how I titillated my clit, the big — O — never happened. Don’t get me wrong — my cunt would feel a little more tender and, well, warm. But how do you know what an orgasm feels like if you’ve never had one? I was sassy enough to realise this gushy warmth was not what the pleasure-seekers were… seeking!

I became convinced that if I had a boyfriend, things would be different. They weren’t. It has to be said, I didn’t give up easily.

Jack fucked me, a lot.

Steve licked my clit every night for a week.

Ben practically got his fist inside me while doing a real number on my nipples.

No joy. Then Mark and Matt decided what I needed was a MMF threesome. Why not? I thought as I found myself in a man-sandwich with me as the filling, being filled to the brim.

“Sorry, lads,” I said, as I let them out the door later that night.

I began to wonder if the problem was the fact that I still lived with my parents. It wasn’t as if they were constantly in my face; they went away most weekends, which is how I’d managed to behave like a slut for several months on the trot. But I wondered if perhaps my subconscious was playing tricks on me. So I packed all my belongings, hugged mum to stop her crying and moved out. I’d just started work as a doctor’s receptionist, and my older cousin said I could rent a room in his flat. I jumped at the chance, as it was the cheapest option by far. He was ten years my senior and, in my eyes, rich. His apartment was massive, so I even got my own bathroom.

“Little cuz,” he said, “glad to help you on your way in life.”

And he really was, particularly when I decided it wasn’t a man I needed and started to date girls in an attempt to pop my orgasm cherry. His eyes were on stalks when a procession of nubile, gorgeous young things would come and go.

“What’s your secret, Cam?” he’d ask.

I wasn’t sure, but I did know most people were up for a challenge and that’s what I was giving them. Even though nobody succeeded, all had great fun trying. And time flies when you’re enjoying yourself.

Fast-forward to me at 22. Still at my cousin’s place. Still at the surgery — god I hated that job — sick people are not conducive to an evening of sexy fun. And still waiting to ring that bell in the bedroom. Although one thing I had discovered, after getting it on with the absolutely gorgeous Jennifer, Alison, Phillipa and Sue, was that I was more attracted to men.

My cousin had some hot friends. I’d noticed them and I was sure a few of them looked my way. Perhaps partly down to the fact he told them about Cam’s challenge. Although it did appear some seemed a little intimidated by me because of this and steered clear.

There was this one guy called Karl. He often stayed over on the sofa, after a night on the town with my cousin. There was something about his high cheekbones and slightly lopsided smile that made my core tingle just a bit when he looked at me.

One afternoon, my cousin had gone to the supermarket, and I’d just had a long, hot bubble bath. Thinking I was alone in the flat, my bedroom door was half open, and I hummed a little tune whilst towelling myself dry. I looked in the dressing-table mirror and realised Karl was watching me from just outside my door, which I had my back to. Immediately I felt invigorated, stimulated and sexy as fuck. I took hold of my moisturiser and began my normal ritual of massaging the cream into my skin — all… over… my body. My nipples became alert as I rubbed and squeezed my tits, slowly moving my hands down to my waist and across my taut stomach.

Glancing at my reflection again, I noticed Karl’s hand was coaxing a clearly defined bulge, while mine slipped between my thighs and moistened an already sopping wet slit.

As my fingertips slid back and forth, our eyes met in the mirror. It was clear he was immensely turned on. His look was one of pure lust. My heart began to beat faster as some strange kind of electricity seemed to be cruising my veins — something I had never experienced before. Then, as Karl’s hand disappeared inside his fly, and it seemed just by watching me he couldn’t hold out any longer, I began to come. Shuddering and moaning. Hand between my legs. Hardly able to remain upright. A kind of knee trembler.

Finally…

It seemed rude not to invite him in. I was so elated and after all, he was the one to fulfil Cam’s challenge. The least Karl deserved was a blow job.

Afterwards, we cleaned up, I thanked him; he thanked me and then went home.

Now I knew what my thing was. My kink, perhaps. I liked being watched. I didn’t just like it — I loved it. An exhibitionist. Couldn’t get enough of it. My cousin’s mates were happy to oblige, but I soon became more discerning. I choose only those with a twinkle in their eye and a manner which I recognised. That of a happy voyeur.

A few months later, I set up as a cam-girl. Apart from the name, it suited me down to the ground! Knowing someone was watching, wanting me, without being able to touch was just the apple in my pie.

Anyway, got to go. Some of us have work to do — all eyes on me!

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