Q: Headaches w/ orgasms? It’s been getting worse, & now distracts from the orgasm every time. Anything that can be done?

Oh, owww! Headache with orgasm is pretty much no fun at all, and is more common than you might think. I conferred with my partner Dr. Robert (formerly known as The Chiropractor You Can Tell How You Really Hurt Your Back) on your behalf, and here’s the gist of our knowledge. First, headache is often vascular and/or associated with body tension, two things that are likely to change with sexual arousal. Headache can also be associated with brain chemistry — another thing that arousal is likely to change! So let’s break this out a little.

When you’re getting close to orgasm, what’s happening with your body? What position are you in? Are you masturbating, say, with great focus, speed, and a lot of muscle tension? Are you tensing up a lot during partner sex, ripping the sheets off the bed and curling up or arching back? These would indicate high levels of muscle tension. (Dr. Robert once diagnosed a guy whose severe neck pain got worse when he got close to orgasm — the guy eventually admitted he did crystal meth and masturbated for hours all hunched up. Tina does raise a person’s tension levels. Not suggesting that’s what’s up in your case… just saying.)

And what about your breathing? Are you holding your breath, or breathing very fast?
Either of those can change the oxygen level of your blood, and either hyper- or hypo-oxygenation might result in headache.

How’s your blood pressure, in general? That’s one indication of your vascular health, though it’s possible the doc has never gotten out the blood pressure cuff when you’re just about to come.

Speaking of docs, go see one, if you can – preferably a migraine specialist. Make sure you tell her or him the part about the orgasm — don’t be shy. It’s possible such a doctor might be able to prescribe something that will ease those symptoms, and if it’s true (as some suspect) that these headaches may be related to migraine, a specialist is likely to be better informed about this situation than a GP.

Finally, to test whether breath and tension may be playing a part, try an experiment when you have some time on your hands: masturbate very slowly and languidly, taking all the time you need to build up to orgasm without any of the tension that you might usually experience. Make sure you breath deeply but regularly. Stay as relaxed as you possibly can. Most people find it takes a while to get used to orgasm-seeking without any speed or tension, but it’s important in your case — you’re getting information about whether the headache hits you even if you’re doing absolutely nothing physical (that is, tension-, breath-, or position-wise) to induce it. This will be useful information to tell the doctor and may help with diagnosis. Good luck!

–CQ

The minute they closed the door to the bedroom, she set upon the fly of his jeans. His erection was already straining at the worn denim. She unzipped him and swooned over the gorgeous sight in front of her. So smooth and pink, it looked ready for a photo shoot for a glossy magazine.

Instead she went to work, swirling her tongue over his velvety head and spiraling her hands around his shaft. Even though he suggested at one point that she stop if she wanted him to fuck her, she wanted to finish him off with her mouth. She knew how much he liked it and she liked hearing the moans and exclamations he made then that he didn’t make when he came inside her. He didn’t object a second time.

Sure enough, he lost all coherence as she sucked on his hefty balls and ran her tongue up the seam between them. He even let the word “love” tumble out of his mouth at one point, though she wasn’t sure if he said he loved her or just loved what she was doing. She took it all with a grain of salt at this point. She finished him off with a concentrated assault on the head and some vigorous pumping on the shaft as he grabbed at her hair and groaned with abandon.

“What about you?” he asked afterward. “What would you like me to do for you?”

“How about you just lie back and I’ll show you what I like?” she suggested.

They’d had sex several times, and he had been eager to please her each time. But there were always tricks that only a woman knew about herself and what brought her pleasure. And she’d had so little good sex for so many years, she had caught on early that the only way she’d be satisfied is if she took matters into her own hands. Those hands had gotten pretty skilled over the years.

“God, I love seeing you touch yourself,” he said. This seemed to be a new thing for him. Maybe most women didn’t have to do this if they had a guy around. Lucky them. Maybe they just felt self-conscious. Well, she’d gotten past that, hadn’t she?

He was already grinning as she lay back on the pillows, unbuttoned her blouse and revealed a lacy demi-bra, black with pink rosebuds. She ran her fingers over the scalloped edge of one cup, down the gentle slope into her cleavage, already dewy, and up the other side.

She skimmed her hands down over her breasts, leaving on the bra to get her money’s worth out of it. She moved lightly down over her stomach, past her belly button to the edge of her jeans. She scooted the waistband down to show the matching string bikini. She toyed with the lace there and lifted her eyes to him in a tease. He was already hard again and his eyes were dancing.

“I can’t believe you,” she laughed.

She returned to business, slipping her fingers under the panties and up and over her mound, light with hair. She was already aroused from her oral exploration of his cock, so the second she got to her clit, the electricity was on. She knew she had a head start on things and it wouldn’t take long to complete this little lesson for him.

That first delicious sensation was enough to elicit a sigh, and that was all it took for him to spring over to her and start kissing her on her stomach. He kissed around the sides of her breast and pulled down the lace to suck at a nipple.

“You drive me crazy,” he told her.

“Thanks. But just watch for now,” she said.

He leaned back again, and she removed her panties so he could see her hand in motion. She first put two fingers on either side of her clit and rubbed up and down. As the feeling spread, she began making circles around a larger area. In their previous times together, he had always paid attention there, but often he would poke at the thing like it was the on/off button on the TV. It wasn’t quite the action she needed, but she decided to show him a more effective alternative rather than say anything.

As she got more aroused she let her head tip back. In between the circles, she ran a finger down to the entrance of her vagina, circled it, then returned again to her clit, pushing down harder and moving her hand faster. Her hand swept over the whole area now, pushing into the bone that sheltered that exquisite font of pleasure.

She opened her eyes to look at him and saw him stroking his hard cock, murmuring encouragement to her. She closed her eyes for the final stretch, picturing him with his cock in hand and thinking of his excitement growing along with hers. If she were alone, she could conjure up scenes from their previous lovemaking. As she got close, she would often think of him and the things he said right before he came, always full of more passion than sense. That surrender was usually enough to push her over the edge.

But today she just had to think of him there next to her, so excited by watching her, and she felt the warmth start to spread in that wonderful moment when the mind can let go and let the body take over. Her orgasm washed over her and she gave herself up to it, arching her back and pushing into her hand. As it subsided, she removed her hand, wet and slick now, leaving behind even more wetness that – judging from the leer in his eyes – would not go to waste for long.

If a guy doesn’t climax after 20 mins of foreplay and 30 mins of sex does it mean the sex is terrible?

Oh, this is an awesome question! No, it doesn’t necessarily mean the sex is terrible at all. It might be so great that he’s trying with all his will not to let it end — so many people, of all genders, are trained to think that when a guy comes, the sex is over, that many men try hard NOT to climax! And that can train a man, whether he intended to do so or not, to have a hard time coming at all. (Of course, in reality, the sex doesn’t have to be over until everyone involved has had enough fun, or until it’s time to catch the bus for work, whichever comes first.)

Other reasons he may have a hard time coming: He may have some sort of emotional issue with the sex he’s having (guilt, for instance), or he may have issues with sex in general. All kinds of things are possible here, from body image issues –even gender issues, believe it or not– to having had sexual problems that make him less in touch with his body. Many people don’t think of guys as potentially having had nonconsensual or problematic sexual experiences, but of course, some *have* had such experiences and are as likely as everybody else with that history to “check out” when things get too intense in bed. He might even have a physical issue that affects his ability to come, or be on medication that impairs orgasm — many meds have this unfortunate side effect.

If you are asking this because you’ve had sex with a guy who didn’t climax, and you find yourself having sex with him again, consider asking, “Is there anything else you’d like me to do? Do you have favorite or special kinds of stimulation you like?” Make it clear you are interested in his having a good time, and see what he communicates.

Tweet! –CQ

Related at Good Vibrations:
Sex For One
Multi-Orgasmic Man
Orgasms

Orgasm Inc. is a new film that premiered at the Hot Docs Film Festival, Toronto, Ontario about the ongoing trend to medicalize female sexuality. As we’ve seen over and over, there’s a lot of money to be made by promising better sex. But a female equivalent of Viagra has yet to be developed. Instead, there are a multitude of companies promising to help women have “normal” sex lives. Ick.

Here’s a link to more info about the film and a trailer.

Related Good Vibrations Products:

I Love Female Orgasm
America’s War On Sex
Healing Sex

The general attitude of ppl towards ‘queefing’ seems negative to me.. is it normal? Can you stop it or make it quieter? I do when I cum.. =/

Queefing (in case anyone reading this is unfamiliar with the slang) = vaginal farting, or more precisely expelling air from the vagina in such a way that it makes a sound. (They sometimes used to be called “varts.”) And the reasons why people might react to them negatively are mainly twofold: 1, they’re not used to them, the queef is unexpected and throws off the concentration, erotic focus, fantasy world, etc., of the person reacting; and 2, some people have still not gotten over the urge to laugh and point at farts.

In either case: Queefing is a perfectly natural response to enough vaginal action that air, as well as whatever other relevant body parts or toys, enters the vagina, and is subsequently expelled. I’m not sure it happens to everyone who engages in penetrative vaginal play… but it’s very common, common enough to have not one cute moniker but two! I’m guessing the fact that it happens during your orgasm means your PC muscles, and hence your orgasmic contractions, are strong. To lessen it might mean a milder contraction (and that’d only happen if your PC muscles lost tone), and a milder contraction = a milder orgasm. So if you want my advice, learn to love it, and if a partner says anything, tell them it’s your vagina shouting with joy.

Tweet tweet! –CQ

“So you’re the famous Sloan Renfrew,” Steve said, holding her hand a few seconds longer than was customary. “I’ve been reading Wet Dream for years,” he continued. “You do a wonderful job there.”
Sloan responded with a tight smile. “That’s high praise coming from the great Steve Brady,” she said.
“There’s something I’ve always wondered about editors in your line of work,” Steve went on, ignoring the compliment. “Don’t you get just a little bit horny reading all those erotic stories?”
Sloan’s smile disappeared. “I’ve read thousands of stories over the past ten years,” she said evenly. “If I let them affect me in the way you suggest, I’d never get any work done. Staying detached and dispassionate helps me to choose the best stories possible. We only publish the best of the best at Wet Dream,” she added.
Steve took a sip of his gin and tonic and then looked Sloan in the eye. “I write erotic stories,” he said casually.
She cocked an eyebrow. “Really?” she asked doubtfully. “I’ve never seen one of your stories in print. Do you publish them under a pseudonym?”
Steve took another sip from his drink. “Oh, I don’t publish them at all.”
“Are you one of those writers who considers himself above erotic fiction?” Sloan asked. Her tone was neutral, but Steve thought he detected daggers beneath the calm surface.
“Not at all,” he said. “It’s just that I use them for social purposes.”
Sloan looked confused. “Social purposes?”
Steve leaned closer. “I wouldn’t want this to get around,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper, “but I use them to seduce women.”
A look of scorn crossed Sloan’s face, though Steve thought he detected a faint blush as well. “You have an awfully high opinion of yourself,” she said.
Steve shrugged. “All I can tell you is that they work,” he replied. “The last time I read one to a woman, she had her pants off and was playing with herself before I’d even finished reading the story.
Sloan was quiet for a moment, as if considering something. Steve could tell she was intrigued in spite of herself.
“If they’re as powerful as you say they are, I might consider publishing one of them in Wet Dream,” she said at last. “You’d have to submit it to the magazine like anyone else,” she added. “And it would have to meet our standard of literary quality. We don’t publish Penthouse letters in Wet Dream.”
If Steve heard the note of condescension, he didn’t show it. Instead, he glanced at his watch.
“Tell you what,” he said. “My condo is just six blocks from here. “If you’d like, we could go there now, and I could read you a couple of my stories. If you were interested in one of them, you could take the manuscript with you for further consideration.”
Sloan seemed taken aback by the suggestion. She hesitated, as if not sure how to respond.
“Of course, if the idea makes you nervous after what I just told you, I’ll understand,” Steve said.
Sloan’s eyes flashed. “I already told you. I stay detached about the stories I evaluate. I have nothing to be nervous about.”
“Shall we go then?” Steve suggested.
On the way out the door, he caught sight of Jen’s surprised face across the room. He winked at her.

“Can I get you a drink?” Steve asked, as he walked back into the living room from his study.
Sloan, who’d been admiring the glittering lights in Central Park, turned around to look at him.
“I never drink when I’m evaluating fiction,” she said.
Steve had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “You won’t mind if I have one,” he said, putting a manila folder down on the coffee table. He walked over to the sideboard and poured himself two fingers of Laphroaig.
Glass in hand, he returned to the sitting area. “Shall we get to work then?”
Sloan took a seat on the couch Steve indicated. She sat upright with both feet on the floor and her hands clasped over her stomach. Steve retrieved the folder from the coffee table and sat in the chair opposite her.
“Ready?”
She gave a short nod.
“This one’s called ‘The Riding Crop,’” he said. And he began.
Halfway through the story, Steve paused and looked up. He was struck immediately by the marked change that had come over Sloan. Her face was flushed, and her eyes had an uncertain—almost startled look—about them. Her knees had fallen open slightly, and she was rubbing one of her legs back and forth with her right hand. When he smiled at her, she looked away quickly, as if embarrassed. Still smiling, he went back to his reading.
Ten minutes later, after finishing the story, Steve looked up again. He’d been aware during the last half of the story that Sloan kept crossing and re-crossing her legs. The flush on her face had deepened, and her mouth was slightly open. As he watched her, she licked her lips.
“Don’t tell me what you thought yet,” he said quickly, holding up a hand. “Let me read you one more.”
“I don’t know,” Sloan said, glancing at her watch. “It’s getting late.” Her voice sounded smaller than it had earlier in the evening and less sure of itself. Despite her words of protest, she made no effort to stand up.
“Just one more,” Steve said in his most soothing voice, leaning forward to touch her knee. “You’ll enjoy this one. It’s called ‘On All Fours.’”

Later, Steve asked Sloan if she’d liked his stories.
“Yes,” she answered briefly, sounding both distracted and out of breath.
Steve wasn’t insulted by the brevity of her response. What he noticed chiefly was the husky quality in her voice, a quality that hadn’t been there earlier. He decided he liked it.
“And would you like to publish one of them in Wet Dream?”
Instead of answering this time, Sloan made a low whimpering sound.
“What was that?’ Steve asked. “I didn’t catch that.”
“Yes,” Sloan replied faintly. She seemed to be having some difficulty talking.
“That’s great,” Steve said, “though I don’t necessarily like the idea that I’m getting in through the back door.”
Sloan shifted her weight on her elbows and braced herself. “Back door,” she repeated as if in a daze. “Please. Now!”
Kneeling behind her, Steve slid his cock back into her ass and was gratified to hear her sharp intake of breath. Earlier, he’d been in her mouth and cunt. A three orifice night, he thought, feeling quite pleased with himself.
After he’d finished reading the second story, Sloan had crumbled rather quickly. She’d tried to leave, it’s true, but it hadn’t taken much to dissuade her. A hand on her cheek, another up her skirt. When he’d slipped his fingers inside her panties, she’d gone from buttoned up to unbuttoned to undone more quickly than you could sip a martini.
Steve slid a hand between Sloan’s legs and began to bring her to climax again. The first time she came she’d made a lot of noise. He liked that. Now, as her moans grew louder and more frequent, he thought about a new story he might write. The idea blossomed—took on a life of its own—the way his best stories always did. What would he call it? he wondered, and then smiled to himself. “The Fiction Editor,” he thought. It seemed the perfect choice. Simple and to the point.
At that moment Sloan’s pleasure peaked and spilled over into a crescendo of grateful wails.
Steve couldn’t remember ever getting such a positive response to his work.