Electrostimulation and Orgasm

February 11, 2013 at 11:38 am (Real Life, Sex) (, , , , , , , )

Having one of the most powerful orgasms of my life while strapped to a massage table in the basement of a suburban home is actually a pretty fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

I met a couple at a kink-friendly party who talked about e-stim and invited me to try it. I’ll admit I didn’t do my homework and didn’t really know what they were talking about; I assumed it was a form of electrical play similar to using a violet wand. So when I accepted their invitation and trekked to their home in the suburbs, I was thinking I might remove my shirt but that was about it.

It was a bit of a surprise when Bob showed me two small objects with electrodes embedded in them and explained that one was designed to be inserted vaginally and one anally. Ohhhh… if I’d been smart I would have been a little more prepared! Apologizing for my unshaven legs, I gamely stripped and lay on the towel-covered table. I inserted the vaginal plug and asked my boyfriend to insert the anal one. ¬†They were attached by leads to a control box that looked, to me, similar to a CB radio, which was attached to a laptop for finer control of the sensations the electrodes would produce. Bob started with a basic pattern that felt like something expanding inside those orifices, though it was simply the muscles reacting to the electrical stimulation by expanding and contracting.

It was probably not the best way to start, since I wasn’t at all aroused at this point, and my arousal certainly doesn’t start with being penetrated. Truthfully, I wasn’t enjoying the sensations. Bob kept asking questions about how I felt and making adjustments, then suggested we try some electrodes on a breast. He placed two stick-on electrodes on either side of my right nipple, near the edges of my areola (which are quite large) and we removed the anal probe in order to hook up that lead to the electrodes with a splitter. The sensation there was fascinating and definitely arousing – it felt as if the nipple was being pinched, but the sensation was also distinctly below the surface of the nipple. Now, I absolutely adore breast play and always want lots of nipple stimulation during sex, so this is a key to my arousal, and I started having trouble staying quiet and still, much to the amusement of the audience of my boyfriend and Bob’s wife, Jenny. (Watching someone experiencing e-stim is about as interesting as watching paint dry; there’s really nothing to see except a naked person lying on a table. Jenny was knitting through most of the playtime! It’s only fun for other people if they’re driving the equipment, or when the subject starts squealing with pleasure.)

The nipple stimulation was so wonderful, I asked for electrodes on my left breast as well. This meant disconnecting the vaginal probe, which was fine with me – even with the arousal brought on by the nipple action, I wasn’t getting much out of the vaginal stimulation. So out it came and two more electrodes went on, not quite in the same position but still generating a very similar sensation. Having both nipples stimulated simultaneously is probably one of my most favorite things ever, and I loved it, gripping the edge of the table to keep from arching my back and squirming. I breathlessly told them that it would be heaven to be strapped down and stimulated with a vibrator along with the nipple stim, and I regretted not bringing one with me. Never fear – Bob and Jenny kindly offered the services of their Hitachi, and of course they had a handy pair of velcro cuffs to attach my hands over my head to the table. I just closed my eyes and let the sensations wash over me.

The boyfriend manned the vibrator, and eventually Bob joined in, experimenting with me. He tried inserting another vibrator in my vagina while the Hitachi covered my clit, but at first it felt like he’d inserted something anally – perhaps because of the angle – and I asked him to stop. No offense taken – try something else. He started playing with my nipples along with the electrical stimulation going on, which was phenomenal – very much the type of stimulation on the edge of overstimulation that I crave. The Hitachi was a bit too much, though – I tend to need very focused clit stimulation, and the ball top of the classic Magic Wand was a bit too generalized for me. We took a break from it, and after a few minutes I asked the boyfriend to finger my clit instead. He was game, and it was comforting to have him close and participating in this with me.

Unfortunately, my cell phone started going off with text message alerts, which distracted me quite a bit, and I probably would have reached orgasm much faster if there hadn’t been that break in concentration. I was at a peak of arousal without the release of orgasm for quite a long time, which is both delicious and agonizing – my arms were getting sore from pulling at the restraints, my ladybits were on the edge of numb, though my breasts were still in heaven. The boyfriend stuck to his task, and Bob eventually tried a vibrator inside me again, and that did it – stimulation overload sent me into spasms. My full body reacted to that orgasm – I arched up off the table, disconnecting one set of electrodes in the process, and I know I was loud – it was a deep, rich release. As I came back down, it took me quite a while to calm my breathing, and the boyfriend stayed close to me while I slowly relaxed again. I had a moment of overwhelming emotion that almost broke into tears (not unusual for me after a strong orgasm). Mostly I was terribly dehydrated.

After a bit of wind-down time we did play with a violet wand, which I’d love to experiment with more, then I dressed and we sat around talking for a couple more hours. Bob and Jane are older than my boyfriend and I, they have some interesting hobbies aside from electrical sex, and they were very kind, generous hosts. I’m very grateful for the experience they gave me and sent them a thank-you note afterwards.

It’s an adventure I’m very glad to have had, for a number of reasons. It was an aspect of sexual stimulation I’d never explored and found that I enjoyed very much. I’ve often mused on the possibilities of extreme arousal and sensual stimulation, and how that would impact me with my orgasm difficulties (see here and here), so this experience showed me that while it wouldn’t necessarily speed up my ability to orgasm, reaching orgasm was definitely possible with this kind of stimulation, and could result in a very powerful orgasm at that.

It was also the first sexual experience I’ve had in a long time that involved someone touching me in a sexual way for whom I didn’t feel any kind of sexual attraction. I’ve had poor experiences in the past with sexual contact from men I wasn’t really attracted to, but this was different – not clinical, but not wholly disengaged either. I think it was simply friendly play – Bob wanted me to have a good experience with one of his favorite toys, he wanted to share his knowledge, and he did things he thought would help me get the most out of it. Those things involved touching me in sexual ways, and I was okay with that, his wife was okay with that, and it didn’t mean anything more than friendly assistance. I’ve become unused to thinking of sex detatched from emotional connection and sexual attraction, so it is interesting to reflect on the fact that a wonderful sexual experience can take place with someone with whom I don’t have a strong emotional/sexual bond.

I was very grateful that my boyfriend came along for this experience with me. I was concerned that he would be bored, and very happy that he gamely participated. His closeness increased my comfort level in the experience, and added an element of emotional intimacy that probably helped as well. He has told me he enjoyed the experience, too, and that it is something he’d love to see happen again someday – a fantasy we share of bringing me to orgasm under group stimulation. Another adventure to find in the future.

While I wouldn’t invest in the equipment myself, given the option to play with e-stim toys again, I would definitely do so. Exploration of this kind is part of the life adventure I seek, and it was well worth a Sunday afternoon in the suburbs.

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A story in search of a title.

May 7, 2011 at 4:02 pm (Sex) (, , , )

I was told to undress, told to kneel on the bed, my feet slightly off the side, my knees slightly apart. He slid a pillow under me, pulled the blanket over me, asked if I was comfortable. He didn’t tell me what he was going to do, and I didn’t ask. I just waited.

I don’t remember if he undressed for this. I felt him touch me, slowly and gently stroking over the curve from hip to thigh, then again, moving inwards towards the core. He barely brushed his lips down the center, and I felt his breath as a warm tickle, followed by small kisses – not hesitant, but not urgent. He didn’t probe, he didn’t push inward, just kissed and nuzzled. It was obvious this was not about my pleasure – he did not touch or kiss his way down to my lips or clit. It was only my ass he was interested in.

It didn’t take very long. I heard his breathing change, a catch, an exhalation. He got up and I heard running water in the bathroom. He came back, removed the blanket and told me I could lie down now.

He later explained, in an offhanded way: “Lately that’s the only way I can come.”

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The trenchcoat.

April 15, 2011 at 6:00 pm (Sex) ()

I don’t think he asked me to do it. I think it was my own silly notion.

When he parked next to my building, I sashayed over in my strappy heels and long black trenchcoat. He said a distracted hello and then, “Here, can you put this in your pocket?” and handed me a tube of toothpaste.

This was not what I had planned.

I cleared my throat.

He handed me his toothbrush in a travel container.

I said, “Goddamn it, I’m trying to do something here. Look at me.”

He did. I opened the trenchcoat.

He smiled. Now I had his attention. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, hard; then pulled away, gathered the coat closed with one hand and took his hand with the other to drag him inside.

The door slammed shut, I dropped the coat and dropped to my knees. Men’s pants are so difficult to get into when you’re in a hurry. Belt, button, zipper, then another layer… there.

Lips parted to take him in, hard and ripening against my tongue, dripping sweetness. Tongue rolling and searching for all the best places, the right spots, the one that makes him gasp, the one that makes him draw in his breath through his teeth.

He pulled me up and close; the decadence of being naked against someone fully clothed. His hand went between my legs, a quick stroke as if to check — yes, just as he thought. Where, then, shall we? The floor is fine. I’ve been waiting all night; there’s no time left, the bed is too far away. Now.

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It’s always best to start at the beginning.

April 7, 2011 at 5:54 pm (Sex) (, )

I was a very late bloomer.

I wouldn’t say she took advantage of my innocence, but I definitely had a lot of it. To be 19 years old and never been kissed, let alone touched, was on the rare side even then. I didn’t expect anything to happen. I wasn’t even hoping or wishing for something to happen. I didn’t know anything could happen.

I had so little understanding of myself as a sexual being. I didn’t even masturbate until I was 18. I still wore the plain white underwear my mother bought me; the appeal of wearing pretty lingerie hadn’t occurred to me. No one had ever expressed any interest in me in a physical way, and I never thought that anybody would. I didn’t think sex applied to me; I wasn’t troubled by that thought, either. I was pretty simple back then.

She was the first person in my short life to actively pursue my company. I’d always had a difficult time making friends, so it was completely novel for me, what she was doing – showing up in the places where she’d knew I’d be, hunting me down in between classes at the university. Soon she was inviting me over to her house, which was also different and exciting – she lived with her gay father and his partner in a huge, old house with a dramatic staircase and an attic that felt like a maze of tiny rooms. She ran the household and was permitted complete freedom, which meant a party every weekend. I was soon invited to one of those.

I think I may still have a picture from that night, or one of those nights, and I clearly recall the expression on my face in that photo – bleary-eyed fascination at what was going on around me. Her friends were flamboyant, loud, and heavy drinkers all. I’d had maybe a wine cooler or two before then (it was the 80’s; forgive me) but had never been even close to drunk. She decided that white wine was the best choice for me, and told me to drink it like water. And so I did.

It was a long and slow seduction. I remember sitting in the kitchen around 3 AM, when her diabetic father came down for a snack. He sleepily asked, “What are you up to?”

“Getting Alice drunk.”


“So I can seduce her later.”

I giggled. I don’t think I even knew what she meant.

Later was probably about 5:30 AM, after she decided to cut my hair. I had always loved having my hair cut, and it gave me a feeling I would identify with arousal now, but I didn’t know what it was then. A drunken haircut probably wasn’t the best idea, and I don’t remember quite how bad of a haircut it was, but it wasn’t good.

We finally arrived in her bedroom, one of the tiny attic rooms with a small window, set in the eaves, walls painted gold with clothing and records piled on the floor next to a mattress. A turntable rested on egg crates. I was seduced to David Bowie’s “Changes” played several times in succession. I curled up on her bed and said, “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

She said, “Don’t worry, I do,” and pulled her t-shirt over her head.

She was luscious. She showed me what to do, demonstrated on my own body before allowing me to repeat the same on hers. What I remember most is the loveliness of her breasts – so perfectly round, with small rosy nipples, and it felt wonderful to me to suck on them. I remember pressing my knee between her legs, as she had to mine. I remember…

I remember staring out the window as the sun came up and she slept. I remember dressing and creeping out of the house, walking home through the still-quiet morning.

I remember falling apart. I remember asking too much of her. I remember saying I loved her, and being told, as gently as she could, that she didn’t love me. I remember finding peace with that, then losing it again. We tried to keep our friendship alive, but in a few years it faded away entirely.

Not long ago we reconnected through the wonders of social media. She was pleased, and surprised, and glad that I didn’t hate her, she wrote. She always felt bad about how often she’d convinced me to skip classes. She felt responsible for the fact that I’d dropped out of college entirely.

I had to laugh. She was responsible for so much more. She started everything. And for that, I’m rather grateful.

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The lawyer.

April 2, 2011 at 5:16 pm (Sex) ()

We would meet halfway between our respective offices, and walk together to his car. He would try to lure me into discussion about what we would shortly be doing; he’d question me, he’d flirt with me, but nothing would work. I knew he loved my steadfast refusal to say or do anything at all untoward in public. I was happy to let the anticipation build that way.

Once we arrived at my home, we went straight to the bedroom, and the demure, reticent shell was cracked wide open. With barely a touch I’d be out of my clothes, putting whatever part he wanted in easy reach. I’d stretch along the edge of the bed, sucking and fondling him; with one hand alternating between my nipples and the other probing into the sweet, wet folds below, he’d start mumbling and crooning to me in that slightly, oddly high pitched voice: “I’ll make you come, just wait… I’ll make you come and then you’ll ask me to come back again…” And once, finally, he did make me come, folding up and blooming out, his cock forgotten in my hand.

I didn’t ask him to come back again.

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