I OM. The Story of Jess
by Jess Bates Oct 2, 2013
I remember early in my OM career, the first time I had the thought. It came like a piercing, clear whisper while I lay there on my living room floor, nailed under the finger of one of my first strokers, engulfed by waves of sensation.
"I would die for this."
I have never typed or admitted that out loud. Until now. "I would die for this." How could I say that in response to mere sensation?! I have committed myself to all sorts of causes, among the worthiest I think. But never before had I heard a voice that came from that deeply inside of me, that said I would give it all. For anything.
Until I found OM.
It didn't matter that I didn't understand what it meant. That voice kept coming. In OMs when I felt consumed by sensation. When there was no thought. When it seemed I might throw up in climax and still my body expanded and melted into the ocean that was my undulating pussy.
I have been OMing now for a year and eight months. And during the past four, I have been letting someone new into my heart—deeply in. And it's been in my OMs with him just this past week that I've understood what that searing clear voice has been telling me.
See, there are these parts of me that just work so hard to keep me hidden. It feels almost hardwired now. It's such an old reflex. But I can't stay hidden under a finger. I can't. The sensation outruns my cover. Every time. This man who penetrates like an x-ray. I can't hide. His love and attention bring me back, over and over. Like his finger in our OMs. Like his vision during my fears. "Come back," he says. "Be the powerful woman you are." And I remember.
I remember that there is nothing I want more in the world than to be seen like that. Nothing. Nothing else—not the status, not the image. Not all of the dreams that I have worked so hard to build in my life. And there are many, many dreams. And I've worked very hard to build them.
In the instant when I feel his love touch me, there is a death. It's a death of the self that I've known for so much of my life. I would die for this. It's the death of the one who has hidden behind my intelligence, my charm, my looks, my life tumult. Who all along was just waiting for proof that it was possible to surrender that deeply.
A finger was the key. To show me that it was possible. For this part that came to life to relent. She is no longer needed. She can rest.
Today is my birthday. I turn 37. It's been a day of incredible delight and surprises. I celebrate not only living here, in this community, with friends I adore and a man I love. I celebrate the dying that has been happening. So that the rest of me can be born.