Touching God in Orgasm
by Brooke Sheffer Mar 23, 2014
I used to think that sex was all about the performance. About making the guy understand how good he was doing. Stroking his ego. Making sure he knew how many times he was getting me off and how much I was enjoying myself. OM changed all of that.
The last weekend of the OneTaste Mastery Program in NYC I was having sex with a guy I had been hooking up with when he purred “Ooooh, baby you like that?”. In my head I was thinking, "Um, yeah. Or I wouldn’t be doing it." And then it clicked. That was exactly what I had done prior to OM: stuff I didn’t like. To please others. My desires didn’t matter. They were squished under layers of appropriateness and obligation. Under layers of tough-independent-woman and handle-it-all-without-emotion-entrepreneur.
And the inverse was true as well. There were many things I didn’t do, that I did actually enjoy. They were simple, mammalian things like biting, scratching, nibbling, smelling, licking. At some point or another I had been scolded; told that hurt or given a dirty look.
I didn’t take these responses as an adjustment or refusals of the offer in the moment. Instead, I just shut down and stopped doing them permanently. Sex had become a bad porno, where I was constantly walking on eggshells. I was using the quality of my performance to keep guys around. I figured, if I was good enough in bed, maybe they would love me enough to fill the empty, lonely hole at the bottom of my soul.
Both outside and inside sex, there were roles I had to play in certain situations. I had it all mapped out. I would be apathetic and tough with lovers as I was entering into relationships. And I would hide parts of myself to make sure they only saw what I thought they would like until the right moment when they loved me deeply enough to bring out how much I actually cared. I didn’t know who I was, I didn’t know what people wanted from me and I wanted someone to please tell me.
As we dove deeper and deeper into exercises exploring our preferences and where we held ourselves back, I started to let myself out more. Maybe I did know myself. Maybe I could trust my body. Maybe what I liked and didn’t like wasn’t bad. Maybe it was just unique. Maybe it wasn’t even all that unique. Maybe we just don’t give ourselves permission to be who we are. Where have all these arbitrary societal constructs come from? Who’s the “they” we talk about? Who determines what’s appropriate and what’s not?
I find it excruciatingly frustrating how we swallow what society tells us is appropriate, hook, line and sinker. And I don’t mean in the willing, joyful, electric way of a woman giving oral sex for her pleasure. I mean it in the most unconscious, unawake way possible. Unless you’re gay, and forced to question and examine your sexuality, we do what we’re told. We go from cradle to grave, box to box, picket fence to picket fence without ever discovering who we are and what matters or appeals to us individually.
One of the Mastery weekends we made sex tapes and Nicole critiqued them. I filmed myself sucking cock. There was a moment that she paused the video as I slid my hand up the guy’s hip and pressed, grounding him into the experience and forcing his system to relax. Nicole said, “Now, there’s a woman in her power” and looked at me with those piercing eyes that see more than you’ll ever know. I didn’t register what she meant. I felt seen and wanted to run and hide. Instead I straightened my spine, gave her a nod, and decided to have faith that at some point it would make sense.
A couple weeks later my dad passed away. I was devastated and oddly numb simultaneously. I had begged him for years to tell me how much he loved me over and over. I would ask him to talk to me more, to verbally prove to me how much he loved me. He did his best, he told me again and again how much he loved me and it never landed. I never saw what he did for me. I never saw how demonstrative his love was. I wouldn’t let any of it past that layer of blubber between the world and me.
During the final weekend of Mastery I decided to let my dad in ALL the way. I had worked with Nicole on cracking open the little walnut that was my heart so I could open to the immense amount of love in this world. I threw open the gates and let the force of my dad’s love, and consequently God’s love, flood through my body and out my pussy. Human love is an incredible sensation. It slams you in the chest, disperses gently and electrically through you whole body in a pink/yellow mist and sinks into your stomach, filling it to capacity. God’s love, on the other hand, knows no stopping. It pops your stomach and floods the world at will.
I felt my power in that moment. I had given it away for so long. Asked for it to be confirmed and given back in toxic mimics like attention, drama and futile ego strokes.
None of it matters in the end. The only thing that does is doing what feels good to you and enjoying every precious moment on this earth. Stroke by stroke.