The First Om by Audrey C

by Audrey Chrisler  Oct 3, 2011

Audrey Chrisler

As I sat on the edge of my seat with a dozen or so other students in an OM course, I anticipated what my first OM might be like. We did an eating meditation, slowly savoring a raisin, experiencing it with all our senses. Slowing down and experiencing that one raisin so fully was a glimpse into what I imagined OM might be like.

As my partner and I settled in to have our first OM, he began to look at and describe my pussy. I was surprised to have someone looking with such genuine care and attention. Somewhere between the nervous chatter in my head and actually getting into position for the OM, I forgot that not only was I going to be touched for 15 minutes, my partner would also be looking at my pussy the entire time, too. Much like the feeling of hearing my own voice on a message machine, I began to cringe at the raw intimacy that surfaced between us. There was nowhere for me to run to, no distractions or stories I could create in my head for escape. It was actually a relief to have that level of attention given to me, despite how confronting it felt.

I could feel the heat rise in me as his eyes took in my pussy. And then he began to speak. He told me exactly what he saw. The deepest most hidden part of me; the textures and gradient shades of pink that fanned from outer labia to the bud of my clitoris. I was floored. I stopped cringing and let myself enjoy the attention that he was offering. I was thankful when it was time to stroke so that I could take a deep exhale of the breath that I forgot I was holding.

The rest of the OM was a bit of a blur, a web of tentative adventure and desire. At one point a sharp sensation came up inside my clit, like shards of glass glittered inside all of the full ribbons of sensation I was feeling. My first thought was, ‘Wait a minute! Isn’t this supposed to feel good? What is that sharp painful feeling doing here in my OM and in my pussy? I wanted to ask my stoker if he felt it to, to run away from it, to make it go away right that second! Instead I stayed with the stroke, held these thoughts and questions inside until I felt packed full of them. In one stroke, the sharpness intensified and then disappeared.

To my surprise, I missed that abrasive sharpness more when it was gone than the outrage I felt when it first arrived. To know that my clit could feel, produce and crave such intensity was a new understanding of my body's capability. Now I can identify those spots of raw sharp glass in my clit as moments when I am coming up into a new level of sensation and growth in my OM practice, and often times it correlates to a level of vulnerability and connection in the rest of my life. My first OM, much like all the ones to follow, included sensations that exceeded my wildest expectations for what this practice can hold and reveal.