Continuing my gleeful excitement for blog posts about ‘first times’, I am over the moon to introduce Scarlet Rose, who is here with a gorgeously descriptive piece that goes in-depth into spectacular physical sensations. As an unapologetic enabler when it comes to sex writing, I always love it when people pitch me and say ‘I am testing the water to see if I might fancy sharing more of my sexy stories’, so please do share this and comment if you feel the same way I do: the world needs more of Scarlet’s beautiful words! Kicking off with a beautifully sensual, intense guest blog about masturbation, check out Scarlet’s account of her first orgasm with a neo vagina.
A view from space – my first orgasm with a neo vagina
I am lying in bed, AirPods in my ears and the pitched moans of a sexy woman ringing through my head. Next to me, on my iPad, she is being fucked by her on-screen lover, but I can’t see the video anymore. My eyes are firmly shut as my back arches, my pelvis thrusts in the air, and I finger fuck myself to the first orgasm my pussy has ever experienced.
And I am 44 years old.
This is, sadly, not an uncommon experience for many women, but my story is a little different. I may be in my mid-forties, but my pussy is not. In fact, just 4 months ago, my pussy didn’t exist at all. Or, well, it did but in a different shape. In mid-May, I allowed a surgeon to play origami with my genitals, and transform my dick and balls into a beautiful vulva and vagina.
It’s mid-September now and the recovery is in full swing. The pain is gone, the bleeding has stopped and the swelling has all but disappeared. My shiny, new vulva is coming closer to its final shape. In a call with my surgeon, as I relay to her my recent experiences, I finally ask the question that’s been burning my tongue for months: can I have sex now?
She says yes, much to my relief. My libido was shot post-surgery but it is starting to return and I am desperate to rub one. I could not resist the temptation earlier on and touched myself briefly, on a couple of separate occasions, but the fear of doing some sort of damage kept me from going all the way. The day before the call, I allowed myself to go further, getting aroused to a point of no return, but either out of fear or pure psychological block, I couldn’t climax. Her “permission” lifted a barrier in my brain; it’s OK, girl, you can do this.
The doctor advises me to focus on myself and discover my own body before I let others touch me. That won’t be hard, my dating life sucks so it’s not like I have an option. Either way, I can’t wait to get my hands on, well, myself.
It is wild how different the sensations are between the dick I used to have and my new vagina – even though my orgasms had already changed with HRT alone. About 3 months after starting hormonal therapy, I began feeling the evolution. All of a sudden I was moaning – moaning! – and I could feel the orgasms building slower but more intensely and staying with me for far longer than before. After 9 months on HRT, I could have multiple orgasms, even with a dick; I didn’t need to ejaculate to climax anymore, so I could push and continue climaxing. My record was 5.
But even if the software makes a big difference, the hardware can’t be neglected. I wasn’t sure what to expect in terms of orgasm, but I knew that the process itself would be insanely different. With a dick, you need your whole hand: you grab it fully and go into a steady, sturdy motion. There is a hardness (pun intended) to the gestures, and the aggressiveness of these movements translates into a more brutish experience: you climb quicker, reach the summit faster, and also slide down at a much higher pace. With a vagina, on the other hand, movements are more deliberate; the softness and sensitivity of the tissue demands a more caring and precise motion from the fingers. The buildup, necessarily, is slower, the sensation growing more over time; to keep the climbing metaphor going, you get to enjoy the view more.
To help with any psychological blockage, I decided to go at this with a full arsenal: soft, sensual lesbian sex on the screen, moans blasted straight into my ears, vibrator at the ready right next to me. I start touching myself over my panties as the video starts with a nice and slow half-naked make out session. It doesn’t take me too long to feel aroused; I haven’t had an orgasm since 2 days before the surgery, the longest period without one in my adult life. I am desperate for this, and I can feel it. I remove the panties and let my fingers explore the clit and surrounding area. The nerves are still not fully healed so I need to play with it gently… but as I touch it, I can feel the chemicals flood my brain. I remember a similar sensation pre-surgery, when rubbing gently close to the tip of my dick.
This is a step beyond that though, a bonus level.
My companions are now fully undressed and their hands are roaming each other’s bodies. As their breathing quickens and their moans start ringing inside me, I decide I want to have another first: I want to stick a finger up my pussy. At first I try to fuck myself, moving my middle finger in and out at a similar pace as my right index works the clit, but I quickly realise this isn’t working for me. I do notice a sensitive spot in the vagina, so I keep the finger still and start massaging that specific place.
Suddenly, fireworks explode in my room. I realise I am stimulating the same nerves, from above and below.
The double pressure drives me crazy. I notice moans have been replaced by screams, but they aren’t in my ears; they are coming from my lungs. My body begins to wriggle and arch and turn every which way. I lose touch with reality for a moment, as my finger slips from my drenched pussy and I lie, panting, a tangled mess of hair, limbs and wetness. So this is what all the fuss is about! I get it now: before I was climbing Mount Everest, but this is a view from fucking space.
It takes a (literal) hot minute for my brain to refocus. I am floating on clouds, well above the Earthly plane. This is like nothing I have experienced before. I lie down still and let the chemicals flood all over me. I surrender myself to this torrent and drown in it.
Never has the expression ‘la petite mort’ made more sense to me.
I let go entirely and allow myself to wander through the stars.
