Well, there you go with a sensational title. Sorry that the rest of this post will be logical and reasonable (sorry not sorry).
So the last time I masturbated (with a unicorn dildo, no less. It was pretty awesome), was the first time I’d experienced penetration in a while. A while might be quite the underwhelming way to describe it, in fact.
Regardless, it was the first time. And my body stretched and groaned against it, but it all worked out swimmingly. I enjoyed new toys and a few orgasms, and I squirted for the first time in (don’t say “a while”).. you-don’t-what-to-know-how-long.
It was altogether a pleasing experience if it was slightly less than toe-curling, but it was also followed/joined by an onslaught of tears. I posted about it on Twitter — briefly.
Sometimes gspot stimulation makes my cry, almost on command. Like it's a fucking catharsis button. No pun intended
— Adriana (@adriana_r) January 31, 2017
And discovered that I’m not alone, but I can only tell my story.
There’s a lot of hokey new-agey type stuff about the G-spot, but it certainly seems a quick button for catharsis. I’m certain it’s rooted in biology, and oxytocin specifically causes all sorts of emotions when it rushes through your veins.
But I temporarily forgot this. There wasn’t any way for me to be contained. I was both squirting and crying, and if this sounds like a bad thing.. it’s not. It was a cathartic cry like when you watch a chick flick, perhaps with ice cream, and just let it go.
It was primal and unedited and perhaps just what I needed. It was unexpected only because it’s inconsistent. But hindsight is 20/20, and why wouldn’t I have an intense reaction the first time I experience penetration in months?
And it’s not at all like crying and masturbation or sex don’t go hand in hand for me. When I was with my ex, I discovered that I would sometimes cry from sex. It was because of overwhelming feelings of love and connection, but it pushed the experience to an intensity that I desired. With more recent partners, I’ve achieved a similar intensity through rougher sex.
After I stopped having sex with The Bartender, my poor broken heart was unable to think of anything else when I jacked off, and this resulted in all sorts of crying as I came. It wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure, and it wasn’t always wanted. But it ushered in all sorts of feeling, and sex is one of the few times when I am relaxed enough, stripped bare enough and out of my head enough to just feel. To be.
It’s more difficult, of course, if I’m dealing with unresolved feelings in addition to hormones. Although, that wasn’t the case this time around. I was in a place where I could just notice and feel both amused and impressed with my physiology. It’s a pretty neat thing.
Sometimes my G-spot makes me cry, and that’s always okay even if it’s inconvenient.