Love & Sex

I Did It for Science: Female Ejaculation

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INTRODUCTION:
Squirting by way of a g-spot orgasm has never been at the top of my list of priorities. I’d say it’s right below learning to tie a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue — visually impressive, but ultimately not worth the effort. Maybe it’s the name that turns me off: “Grafenberg Spot” is just not that sexy. It sounds like something I slept through in eighth-grade lab science. And although I’ve heard that g-spot orgasms are tremendous, I’m happy with my clitoral orgasms. After all, if somethin’ ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
    I also wonder if the idea that squirting g-spot orgasms are earth-shattering might be part of the Man’s plan to make women feel inadequate. One of the great things about being a woman is never clicking on spam emails for products that promise to help you shoot loads across the room.
    However, if there is even a tiny chance that squirting is enjoyable and attainable, I’m not willing to rule it out of my sexual repertoire. A possible bonus: if I were able to find some chemically sensitive paper, I could incorporate squirting into my visual art and revive the action-painting movement.

Materials:
Please list all the materials required for this experiment (including, if applicable, how they were obtained).

– DVD: How to Female Ejaculate
– DVD: Seymore Butts’ Female Ejaculation: A Complete Guide
– "Nubby G" vibrator (1)
– Lab partner (1)

Method:
In this portion of your report, you must describe, step-by-step, what you did in your lab. It should be specific enough that someone who has not seen the lab can follow the directions and recreate the same lab.
  
When news spread that I wanted to squirt for science, several prospective lab partners volunteered. I finally settled on my friend Tobly, not because she’s a squirter, but because she had just stolen a copy of She Comes First from the office where she works. Plus, she sent me an impressive résumé detailing her qualifications, which consisted of having a tongue and at least ten fingers. Skills and work experience included using toys, not crying during sex and always paying the rent. Several references were listed, including Janet Reno and the entire roster of the St. Thomas College field hockey team.
    In summation, she wrote, “I wouldn’t give up till we made you a fountain. I would even take it right in the eye. That is how important this is to me.”
    I was sold. Plus, I figured a female lab partner would be less likely to try to “put it in” if I got too impatient and simply wanted to bone.
    Tobly and I scheduled our lab for the following week. Because I have a compact vagina and long fingers, I know exactly where my G-Spot is and have petted it many times. But figuring out how to make this petting propel a volcanic reaction would take at least a week’s worth of research.
    “You’ve got to do kegels,” my friend Michelle advised.
    “Oh, man, I hate working out, even if it’s only my vagina,” I moaned. I know I should do kegels every day. I also know I should eat spinach, exercise and remove my eyeliner before bed, but that doesn’t mean I do. Reluctantly, I began doing kegels — at work, at the bar, on the subway, while watching TV. It was a little like not exercising for ten years and then cramming for a triathlon with only a week to go.
    Many of my male friends were eager to uncover what techniques could lead to female ejaculation. My friend George did a Google search on squirting and discovered that porn actor/producer Seymore Butts made a DVD entitled Seymour Butts’ Female Ejaculation: The Complete Guide. The absurd yet academic title appealed to me. However, I imagined entering a porn store and requesting such a ridiculous title would be mortifying. To lessen the embarrassment I brought along my friends Amy and Georgia.
    Our first stop was sex superstore Babeland, where I didn’t find the DVD but did acquire a “Nubby G” vibrator, which is said to stimulate not only the g-spot but the clit and anus as well. According to Babeland employees, this oafish vibrator helped someone they know ejaculate for the first time. Along with my Nubby G, I picked up a copy of the DVD How to Female Ejaculate. According to the cover, it is “the classic — 10,000 copies sold!”
    From there, we headed up to Times Square, where I sheepishly wandered into several stores looking for Seymore Butts’ squirting video. A handsome porn shop employee named Greg told us they were sold out. “It’s definitely one of the best,” he added, promising to order it for me.
    Later that night, my friend Bruce and I viewed How to Female Ejaculate. The DVD opens with host Deborah Sundahl discussing female anatomy. Judging from Deborah’s shoulder-padded purple blazer and the Negal prints behind her, I gathered that the film was shot in the mid-eighties. As for the g-spot, Deborah proclaimed, “If it were any closer, it might bite you!” She then went on to display her own g-spot by turning a speculum on its side.
    “It looks like a little snail,” I marveled.
    Soon, a trio of Deborah’s squirter friends joined her.
    “Look, two of them are wearing hats,” Bruce noted. “Maybe that has something to do with it.”
    The squirters proceeded to discuss their first ejaculation experiences and the consistency of their ejaculate — what it felt, smelled and even tasted like.
    “Let’s get to the squirting!” I cried, tiring of all the talk.
    “It’s made by women, so of course they have to talk about it a lot before they do it,” Bruce noted.
    We were forced to eat our condescending words when the women suddenly began to squirt. Bruce literally jumped out of his seat as a lanky brunette in crotchless Calvin Klein panties, suspenders and requisite hat shot enough clear fluid to drown a small mammal.
    “That’s amazing! How cool would it be to jizz on a man’s face?” I pronounced, suddenly inspired.
    The following day, I picked up my Seymore Butts video, popped it in the DVD player and awaited instruction, Nubby G in hand and Astroglide at my side. Unlike most male adult stars, Seymore Butts has high cheekbones and a cute smile. He is a male porn star who might actually turn women on.
    The film began with Seymore standing in the rain getting drenched, then shaking out his lovely ringlets and promising to teach viewers everything they wanted to know about female ejaculation. His sermon was interrupted by a phone call from his mother, which he went inside to answer.
    From then on, the Butts residence was awash in activity. It was like he was a latter-day Mr. Rogers; his telephone and doorbell were constantly ringing. Only in this land of make-believe, it wasn’t Mr. McFeely at the door but Tina, a blonde with basketball boobs who wound up engaging in coitus with another visitor to the Butts home. In one scene, a pants-less brunette strolled through Seymour’s living room to retrieve her trousers from the laundry room. Shockingly, she never made it to the laundry room, but instead lost her top, her bra and about a half-gallon of she-jizz.
    Amid the unbelievable scenarios, viewers were treated to tips on squirting. Tina demonstrated advanced and beginner kegels, and Seymore boxed a plastic “Tae Bo buddy” while explaining that wrist and forearm strength are crucial to eliciting female ejaculations from your partner.
    Female Ejaculation: The Complete Guide is one of the loudest pornographic videos I’ve ever viewed. Inordinate amounts of wailing and moaning accompanied each squirting episode. After viewing the first two hours of footage, I wandered into my kitchen and realized my new next-door neighbors were having a fancy rooftop cocktail party while all my windows were wide open. I’m lucky no one called the cops.
    Horrified, I ventured back inside my bedroom, turned down the volume and decided to do a little exploring. Splaying my legs, I fiddled with my g-spot, making a come-hither motion with my fingers. I draped a condom over the Nubby G and coated it with lube. Evidently my eyes had been bigger than my pussy when I purchased the Nubby; its fat, curved head barely fit. When I finally managed to insert it, the pressure was too much for my clit. Within a minute or two, I achieved a satisfying clitoral orgasm that made me wonder why exactly I was bothering with the g-spot.
    If I were going to have a full-on g-spot orgasm, I would have to keep my fingers away from my clit, a feat that would possibly require restraints. Placing the Nubby G far out of reach, I tried again, this time using my fingers and the rapid motions I’d witnessed Seymore use. I clenched my PC muscles, sweated and strained, but produced no fountain.
    Frustrated, I called my friend Faceboy. Knowing he had experience with squirters, I thought he could give me advice.
    “Face, I’ve been rubbing my g-spot for an hour,” I said. “I feel like I’m ready to squirt, but can’t.”
    “Well, what kind of sensations are you having?” he asked.
    “I feel the g-spot swell up and get hard. And it feels like I have to pee.”
    “You know how when you pee, you just let go? That’s what you have to do, just let go.”
    “What if I pee?”
    “You won’t. But, if you’re really worried, try not drinking beer beforehand.”
    “Sexual activity without beer — that’s probably not going to happen. Also, I have to pee all the time anyway. I go through ninety percent of my life having to pee, and the other ten percent looking for places to pee.”
    I live in constant fear of pissing myself due to my pea-sized bladder, but Faceboy was right. I would have to get over my phobia of pissing the bed before I could produce the glorious geysers I’d witnessed onscreen.

Observations/Results:
Quantify the effects of the experiment.

“Tobly, I’m worried I might pee on you,” I told my lab partner when she arrived at my apartment carrying her hot copy of She Comes First.
    “I really wouldn’t care,” she assured me. “And I’ve been doing serious research. You’re not gonna pee on me. We’re gonna make this happen.”
    “It could take a long time.”
    “If it takes all night,” she declared.
    Like a junior scientist who just discovered the explosive qualities of baking soda and vinegar, Tobly excitedly shared her findings. Opening the pages of She Comes First, she pointed to a line drawing of the urethral sponge and began explaining what happens when it fills with ejaculate.
    “What are those squiggly lines?” I asked, confused by the abstract expressionist nature of the image.
    “I think those are supposed to be pubes.”
    “Why did they have to draw in the pubes?”
    “Because that’s the mons pubis.”
    “Yeah, but still it seems a little detail oriented.”
    “Maybe the guy just digs pubes.”
    Tobly put the book down and we went into my boudoir, where I put on How to Female Ejaculate and fast-forwarded to the ejaculations.
    “You know, they really don’t tell you exactly how to do it in this video,” Tobly noted.
    “I know,” I said. “It’s like they’re showing off.”
    Realizing Tobly was bored, I put on the more modern Seymore Butts DVD.
    “I’m really intimidated,” I said, watching the fountains of clear liquid pouring forth from the actresses onscreen.
    “Don’t be intimidated,” Tobly said confidently. “They’re in porn because they can do that. They’re experts. That’s why they get paid the big bucks.”
    “I don’t think I can do it.”
    “You can do it. Turn that off and get naked.”
    I stripped and lay some towels down on the bed, thrilled that, like my male counterparts, I now had a jizz rag.
    “Do you want to get naked too?” I asked Tobly, who still wore jeans and a T-shirt.
    “No. This is all about you. I’m just here to facilitate. It does feel a little technical, though.”
    “Yeah, it’s like we’re about to do surgery.”
    Some mood lighting and incense remedied the situation. I repositioned myself on the bed and Tobly poured a heavy coat of lube over my pudenda. Slowly she spread the lube around and inserted a finger. Luckily she had short nails.
    “Do you feel my g-spot?” I asked, excitedly. “It feels like a rough sponge, almost like a loofah.”
    “Hold on. We’re not there yet,” she said, teasing me with her fingers and tongue until lube became superfluous.
    She slid two fingers inside of me, making the sign of Satan as she began to apply pressure to my G-Spot. She worked her fingers in and out, softly at first, and then hard and fast.
    Noises escaped my mouth not unlike those of a seal. It must’ve looked and sounded like Tobly was beating the shit out of me, because my chihuahua, JJ, darted into the bedroom and started going nuts.
    “I can’t squirt with this commotion,” I sighed, rising from the bed and relegating JJ to the kitchen, where she shivered dramatically.
    “Okay, back to work,” I stated, reclining back on the bed, my g-spot still swollen and aching for relief.
    Tobly reinserted her fingers, rolling them over the ridges of my sweet spot and settling into a fast, repetitive motion whereby she pressed down on the G. Minutes passed, and with each minute my apparent urge to pee grew stronger. My PC muscles contracted around her fingers, but she wouldn’t stop.
    “Oh my God, it’s killing me!” I screamed. “Please stop!”
    “Really?”
    “No!”
    I begged her to stop several times and then begged her to keep going several times, all while grunting, moaning and sweating. I tried to “let go,” as I’d been instructed to do, but nothing happened. I pressed down like I was draining my kitty and nothing happened. The pressure grew heavier and I feared it really would take all night. Tobly’s face was inches from my crotch. She wore a look of pained determination. If you remember the scene in Alien where John Hurt’s stomach bursts open and he gives birth to alien spawn, you’ll have some idea of what my face looked like.
    Usually when I build up to orgasm I’m entertaining dirty thoughts, but I was entertaining no thoughts whatsoever. I was just focusing on the intense, unusual sensation in my crotch. I tried to sit up to lessen the pressure.
    “No, lie back down!” Tobly commanded.
    I lay back down and breathed, lifting my legs up, in what must’ve been a really unflattering move.
    And then, much to my surprise, I squirted. The feeling that I had to pee was gone, yet I hadn’t peed; I had come instead! I stared down at my vagina, amazed.
    “Oh my God! You did it!” Tobly screamed.
    We hugged and rolled our sweaty bodies around on the bed together like we’d just won the lottery. As we collected ourselves, I immediately began asking questions regarding the aesthetic of my squirt. Because we weren’t underwater, I knew it hadn’t been as impressive as the ejaculations I’d watched onscreen. Still, I was a little disappointed when Tobly referred to my ejaculation as “cute.”
    “It sprayed out about four inches. It was like a little fountain,” she informed me.
    “Did it get in your hair?” I asked.
    “No. It didn’t get that far.”
    Disappointed by my lack of distance and aim, we tried to elicit a few more ejaculations, to no avail. I even convinced Tobly to get naked and allow me to dip my hands in her honey pot. But because I’ve had few such experiences, I was more interested in playing with her breasts, which were very large. “Breasts are awesome!” I exclaimed, forgetting the lab at hand.
    Unable to muster further ejaculations, we gave up and went to a nearby bar, where we discussed our g-spots ad nauseam.
    What fascinates me most about the g-spot is how big it gets when aroused, like a sponge that expands when it fills with liquid. I know it’s not a very sexy adjective, but the g-spot is really neat. I’m glad I got to know it a little better.

Conclusion:
Summarize your findings. Don’t forget to attempt to identify possible variables that could result in different findings for others trying to recreate your test results.

While I didn’t prove to be a long-distance squirter, the fact that I squirted at all shocks me. To have occupied this body for more than about thirty years and not known about its ability to shoot mini-fountains of female ejaculate means that maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention to it. Still, the time and effort required was more than I usually like to spend on an orgasm. I like my sex like a mafia hit — in and out and nobody gets hurt.
    “That was great, but I’m not sure I’ll ever bother to do it again. It took too long,” I told Tobly.
    “Rev., it only took twenty-five minutes.”
    “Yeah, too long.”
    That could change with time, assuming I do my kegels. As for whether my g-spot orgasm was better than my clitoral orgasms, it was different, but no more intense. As far as I’m concerned, all orgasms are winners.
    Still, I was proud of my come shot. I spent the following day boasting to friends that I’d squirted.
    “Was it fun?” my friend Tom asked.
    “It was fun, but it was a lot of pressure. I didn’t want to disappoint.”
    “Now you know how we feel,” he said.

I Did It for Science appears monthly.

©2005 Rev. Jen Miller and Nerve.com