Having An Orgasm In Front of A Room Full of Strangers
by Ruwan Meepagala Apr 12, 2014
Not the normal kind of twitching response to warm the body, but wavelike bursts that spasmodically roll down my arms and legs leaving a wake of goosebumps and trembles. I want to ask the Back of House to raise the heat but something tells me I’ll be sweating pretty soon.
I sit next to my partner, she as nervous as I, in the back of the How to OM Course in New York City. Her face is red and her breath is shallow. Less than twenty-four hours ago we were asked to do the demo, a live demonstration of Orgasmic Meditation, for this class of orgasmic neophytes. Though described in different words, they all came for one reason: to experience orgasm in their bodies. And we have been hired to give it to them.
The teacher goes into the standard setup for a demo: “You guys are not allowed to compare yourselves to what you see on this table today. Later today we’re going to teach you scales, but what you’re going to see now is like going to the symphony. The two of them are experienced practitioners who are going to show you what’s possible.”
“Oh that’s nice, I wonder who they are,” my partner says.
Sarcasm is an excellent way to deflect sensation. Fortunately or unfortunately the teacher knows how build it.
She explains the concept of “tumescence,” swelling of unused energy like the pressure on a fire hose that’s been pinched. Tumescence is arousal beyond your level of approval, and as the sensation increases, so does the burning desire to get things moving. The teacher continues to explain that she’s tumescing us on purpose and point to the back so that the class can turn their heads to see us squirming in our chairs.
Finally she calls us up. The voices of anxiety commence in my head as I rise from my seat, but as we walk to the front of the room, each pair of eyes that falls on us turns the volume down a notch so that by the time we’re at the demo table, my mind is completely silent. All I can hear is the ambient murmur that must be what the ocean sounds like to a fish.
My partner disrobes from the waist down and lies down with her legs butterflied open on the padded massage table we are using for the demo. A few hours ago I adjusted the table to be at the right height for me. As the stroker, I remain fully clothed and stand to the right of the table so as to easily be able to stroke the upper left hand quadrant of her clitoris. I place my hands on her thighs to provide the grounding pressure, where we first sync our bodies up.
It took me a long time to recognize the significance of a demo. It’s not in any way a “How To.” The position doesn’t allow most of the audience to really see with the stroker is doing, and clitorises are too small to be seen from afar. The purpose is the transmission of sensation.
It’s not magic. Humans, along with all mammals and some birds are neurologically wired to feel empathy--the emotional and sensational state of another. The same phenomenon that allows yawning to be contagious and parent to know what a baby’s cry means allows us to feel another person’s orgasm.
A few hours into the future, a man from the audience will come up to me and ask “so did you get an orgasm too?” Without going into the semantic difference between orgasm singular and Orgasm Infinitum, I will answer “I felt what she is feeling.” That will be quite a simplification of this moment.
Right now I feel an electric cold front creeping up my forearms, a thick tropical heat in my hands, a vice lock on my left hip, and rhythmic pulses in my right leg causing it kick out like Elvis. I can only guess she feels something along those lines. Her body rocks, convulses, and erupts in an incredible amount of heat. Her moans are quiet but the orgasm is loud reverberating on the far window panes. It takes full concentration for me to keep up, stroke by stroke. The teacher whispers “bring her down now.”
I change to a heavier, thicker stroke to bring us back into our bodies. I ground her again, towel off her soaked pussy, and help her up. Her eyes glazed and expression filterless. The teacher points out to the class her Orgasm Mask. Also called the “pregnancy mask,” it’s the flushed cheeks, darkened eyelids, and reddened lips that are the reason makeup was invented. Everyone looks better on orgasm.
I turn to the audience. Many of their faces are also glazed. Those who allowed themselves to open and feel are exhibiting the same signs of orgasm. They start sharing what they experienced.
“I felt my mouth water” says a young man in the front row.
“My chest got flushed” says a woman in the rear.
“My cock started getting hard and I got light headed” says a guys off to the left.
“I was overcome with sadness” another woman says with teary eyes. “I have an alternate viewpoint,” the teacher says to the teary-eyed woman. “What you’re calling sadness, I would call orgasm. It’s what’s been wanting to come out of you and now it can. Orgasm is a heat-seeking missile and will light up the places where you’re dark.”
Later in the afternoon students in the class will come up to us and thank us for our demonstration, say how it opened something in them, and ask us about our practice. At that point I’ll realize, “Oh, we’re ‘experienced practitioners’ the teacher was talking about!” But at this moment, conscious thought is far from my ability. Multi-tasking is beyond me and right now I need to move.
My partner and I get off the table. We are still trembling but now it’s a trembly heat rather than shivers. As we walk off to the side, I feel the eyes leave us, but the energy stays.
We sift through the thick sensation hanging in the air and sit back in our seats and exhale.