I Did It For Science

Experiment: Female Ejaculation

by Rev. Jen Miller

October 7, 2005

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 — "the Grafenberg Spot" — it's just not that sexy. It sounds like something I slept through in eighth-grade lab science. And while 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'm also not so sure the notion that squirting G-Spot orgasms are earth-shattering isn't 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. Not to mention, 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
- Seymour Butt's 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 began to 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 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'm doing it for my country."
    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. Due to my 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 these things.
    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. Still, the great thing about kegels is that you don't need a gym membership or personal trainer.
    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 and producer Seymour 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 Toys in Babeland, where I didn't find the Butts' vehicle, but where I 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 Seymour 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. I gathered from Deborah's shoulder-pad-festooned purple blazer and the Negal prints behind her that the film was shot in the mid-eighties. As for the G-Spot, Deborah proclaims, "If it were any closer, it might bite you!" She then goes 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 joins her.
    "Look, two of them are wearing hats," Bruce noted. "Maybe that has something to do with it."
    "I'll have to wear a hat."
    The squirters proceed to discuss their first ejaculation experiences and the consistency of their ejaculate — what it feels like, smells like and even tastes 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 they suddenly began to squirt. Bruce literally jumped out of his seat as a lanky brunette in crotchless Calvin Klein panties, suspenders and prerequisite 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 Seymour 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 — who are often quite heinous — Seymour Butts has high cheekbones and a cute smile. He is a male porn star who might actually turn women on.
    The film begins with Seymour standing in the rain "getting drenched" and shaking out his lovely ringlets while promising to teach viewers everything they want to know about female ejaculation. His sermon on squirting is interrupted by a phone call from his mother, which he goes inside to answer.
    From then on, the Butts residence is awash in activity. Like a latter-day Mr. Rogers, Seymour Butts's telephone and doorbell are constantly ringing. Only in this land of make-believe, it's not Mr. McFeely at the door, but rather Tina, a blonde with basketball boobs who winds up engaging in coitus with another visitor to the Butts' home. In one scene, a pants-less brunette strolls through Seymour's living room to retrieve her trousers from the laundry room. Shockingly, she never makes it to the laundry room, but instead loses her top, her bra and about a half-gallon of she-jizz.
    Throughout the unbelievable scenarios, viewers are treated to tips on squirting. Tina demonstrates advanced and beginner kegels, and Seymour boxes 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 accompany 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 open, 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 in lube. Evidently my eyes had been bigger than my pussy when I decided to purchase the Nubby G, whose fat curved head barely fit. When I finally managed to insert the portly phallus, the pressure it produced proved 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 Seymour 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 have to 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."
    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 Seymour 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 naked 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 could now shoot my hot load of love mayonnaise in a romantic setting.
    I repositioned myself on the bed and Tobly poured a heavy dose of lube over my pudenda. Slowly she spread the lube around and inserted a finger into my vag. 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, barking and growling like she was ready to remove Tobly's offending forearm with her fangs.
    "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, and 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 vagitarian experiences in my life, 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 pub, 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" and 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'm not a long-distance squirter, the fact that I squirted at all shocks me. To have occupied this body for over thirty years and not known its capability for shooting mini-fountains of female ejaculate means maybe I wasn't paying enough attention to it. Although, the time and effort it took 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."
    However, this could change with time, assuming I do my kegels.
    As for whether or not 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.
    Finally, even though my comeshot was deemed cute, I was proud. 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.
Copyright 2005, by Rev. Jen Miller and Nerve.com..