I just had my first orgasm in a year and it was very, very different

From castration to liberation

One of my New Year’s resolutions was to rediscover sex, to find my sexual self in my body, and to have as much sex as possible. This is perhaps a tall order given that the choice to come out as trans has also resulted in my de facto castration. It is a real pity that one of the consequences of the cocktail of drugs one takes as a male to female transitioner has the effect of absolutely killing libido and all sexual function.

The death of the dick was swift and merciless. I think it took about two hours after my first date with spironolactone in particular to find that sexual function was gone. It was alarming.

Many of my trans sisters had urged me not to worry, that my libido would come back with a vengeance, only be very different. Others said, “use it or lose it,” in reference to their male bits. See, there are many flavours of trans women. This one had not interesting in using it and just aches to lose it. Aches.

The stirrings of desire have begun, and although I went to a tantric masseuse and really enjoyed it, amazed that doing so is more illegal than anything I have ever done with a dominatrix (now that is ironic), but didn’t find it earth-shattering. I don’t know why, as it felt amazing, but it felt too “light” if that makes sense. I want to be an animal. I am primordial in my abandon, but few things or people or situations have ever gotten me there. This means finding it, cultivating it, and wearing it.

It was also time to link up my kundalini yoga, with the energy work I have been doing on female orgasmic awakening (also kundalini), with a tantric masseuse specialised in kundalini energy. It was wild and life transforming. I have been on a sexual high ever since. GAHT (gender affirming hormone therapy) has alternatively been called a second puberty. I’ve always associated puberty with being randy. Well.

“What just happened?” I asked, coming down from this place of full body ecstacy.

“I think you just had an orgasm.”

“Did I?  I didn’t feel it.”

“There was discharge,” she said, “lot’s, just not like ejaculating.”

“Really?”

“Your body is changing.”

“It is.”

“The way you were moving was very female.  Snaking, writhing.  That’s how women move when they are close.  Men are more up and down, thrusting.” I had been writhing on the table like a bag of snakes.

“It was wild.  It hurt a little bit.”

“Yes, a woman’s orgasm is a bit like that.  It hurts, and then it becomes too much.”

“How did you get me hard?  I haven’t had an erection in over a year.”

“Energy.  Kundalini energy.  And you were definitely hard.”

“Wow, it didn’t feel the same at all.  It was not as ‘local’.  Do you know what I mean?  Like if you were touching the shaft I could feel it in my stomach too.  It was very different.  And I didn’t know what to do with the feeling.”

“Kundalini energy moves all through you.”

“It didn’t feel like a climax or like I was headed towards one, it just became harder and hard to think, and it was spreading through my chest, my abdomen.”

I felt pretty great after and went out to get my nails done before having dinner with a friend I hadn’t seen in years.  The best thing about deep friendships that become lost is that you can pick right up again as if it was yesterday.  Straight to the most personal stuff.  Sex, gender, love, relationships, raising kids, being single again.  We reminisced over wine and BBQ.  It was great.  Summertime USA.

My friend asked, “so, what brought you to town today?”

“Important meeting.” I’ll say.

This kundalini woman was a colleague of the tantric masseuse I had met many months earlier–indeed I had even contacted her at the same time, only this one didn’t respond as fast. I’m glad it worked out that way.  Only my physical reaction this time was very different.  The first time there was more of a whole body touch experience.  Sensual massage.  There was none of that this time.

I sat straddled over a massage table, and then she climbed in between my legs.  We were both naked.  We hugged, and she pressed her belly to mine and we breathed together, synchronized energy together.  She encouraged me to let go of my mind, and to just feel, to let her take care of everything.  It felt very safe with her.  Warm.  It was a lovely apartment.  The heat was on even though it was summer (I like it warm).

She played trance-like music.  And after we had been in this position for a while, she had me lie back and she begin to caress me in a certain way…between my legs, on my inner thighs, and up my body to my nipples, moving the energy through me.  After some time, she had me open my legs and dangle them off the sides of the table and more and more her movement included a gentle touch to my nether regions.

This is always disconcerting, but I was okay with it with her.  It didn’t feel sordid.  It didn’t feel like she was doing a “happy ending”.  It was part of an overall movement.  And my body began to have a mind of its own.  To move with her touch, but as she had said, to writhe and snake and stretch.  She was linear as she brought the energy into my body, and my body responded in a very non-linear way.

Many years ago, I got in trouble with my fiancée at the time when I told her that I had been to have a massage in my hotel in Vietnam and that it had a happy ending. I remember how complimentary she was about my anatomy, “big one” and I I thought at the time, “aw, you must say that to all the girls.” It is a lament that a professional colleague (a man) noted on my behalf. Was I ever good in bed? I doubt it. Attentive. More interested in touch than fucking. Now I get to be me in bed too. My fiancée forgave me because it hadn’t occurred to me that what I did was wrong, that I had just brought it up as plain as anything. Innocence.

I think of her a bit now, the woman I didn’t marry, who was fun to sleep with, so stylish, who got off on treating me like a baby, who was a natural domme, who shared my love of women’s clothes so much that she when she moved out she took half my wardrobe with her. She wasn’t the first. Ladies, this is one of the benefits of living with a trans girl who has has good taste in clothes.

Her presence lies in my near future. She lives where I will be operated on. We left on good terms even though she left me for a friend of mine. The timing wasn’t right. What she needed and I needed were different things. Instead, I married a bully, only 7 years later. Like me, she is now divorced and with children. We share two very close friends. She came to me in a dream last night and lay down next to me in my hospital bed.

I can’t say that what happened was my first female orgasm, but I think I began to feel what it is going to be like as my body keeps changing.  My back up surgeon, who is now gradually becoming my first choice, is big on building a trans woman a functional clitoris.  She has a 96% success rate for an orgasm within one year of surgery.  Her partner surgeon is the one who told me that the nerve development will take a decade.  I think I need to prepare myself for this and buy a vibrator.

­­I don’t know the name of the giant white one (looked a bit like a handheld microphone) that someone I used to know swear by…and by all accounts she used it on herself as often as she did on her caged clients. That’s what I need. Suggestions dear (female or trans female) readers?