Posts Tagged ‘sex’

My first true multiple orgasm..s.

May 25, 2009

I’m here, I’m alive.

This is super short as TMD is helping run a bath for me. I just wanted to let all you curious bystanders know that two days ago during our daytime nap I had multiple dream-gasms. I woke up to hardcore contractions (still painless) that took an hour to subside.

My dream self actually rang up the national helpline in order to press medical professionals for confirmation that sex was/wasn’t okay. Sneaky bitch!!

The contractions were sort of scary and since then, no dream-gasms. The night after the nap, dream self tried for more sex, but some more sane part of me slapped her ass away from the sex because my uterus was already starting to contract.

This may be the end of the dream-gasm as we know it, though I have just given TMD a very detailed plotline of Flowers in the Attic and I know that book certainly got the juices of a much younger me going.

Anyway.

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Pregnancy makes me feel like I imagine a guy trapped alone on a submarine for thirteen months would feel when he got ashore and saw a naked woman for the first time.

May 21, 2009

Last night I went to sleep feeling a bit randy, shall we say.

Sometime before dawn I had a sexy dream and had an orgasm (not uncommon for me, but more common when I am pregnant). I haven’t had a dream orgasm since the No Sex rule was introduced – not that my dream self hasn’t tried. But dream TMD reminds me time and time again that I am not allowed to have orgasms this far into our twin pregnancy.

So, this orgasm. I woke up to my uterus contracting, hard. My entire bump sort of shrunk and went harder than the hardest thing you can imagine. I sleepily thought, Well, fuck. I’ve had an orgasm. Feel how hard my stomach is. Damn my dream self. I wonder if it will…. and then fell back asleep.

Woke up a few hours later and was pleased to feel my tum was back to its normal self. Interesting that I spend time lying on my side, fingertips against my bump, wondering how the fuck I am supposed to feel ‘tightenings’ when my bump is always the same.

(I do think I have painless Braxton-Hicks some evenings, when it feels like the bump has saran-wrapped itself to the babies, but not entirely positive…)

I think my dream-gasm showed me that if I have a strong contraction, there’s really no mistaking it. So that’s one good thing that has occured from my unconscious self getting jiggy. Bad unconscious self. You naughty, naughty girl.

*rrrwwwoooaaarrrrr*

Srsly.

November 29, 2008

Anyone know if having sex while stimming is a bad thing in any way? I’m desperate to find out.

I’ll tell you, I’m sad my clinic is closed now till Monday. Because I’d like permission to have sex, actually. Also because a host of  mildly alarming symptoms consistent with a non-IVF cycle are happening. I’ve been having cramping in my lower back for a day or so, occasional cramps in front, and today – well, fuck.

A large amount of eggwhite CM. And the friskiness.

I hope I cannot ovulate until they give me the go ahead, because my body sure seems to want to.

Lesbian bed death? Never.

October 10, 2008

I am feeling about twenty million times more sexual lately. I know, I know, you didn’t ask. But TMD and I have had some very good times lately, and twice in the past week I’ve thought, ‘That woman is hot‘ (about others, and I’ve thought it about TMD many, many more times!) This is not particularly usual for me, I must say.

It makes me wonder if I was in a mild depression for the four years I was at Day Job (okay, perhaps ‘mild’ is a bit of an understatement about how I felt about/in that job a lot of the time). I’m now in a job where I am expected to actually work, but at a human and bearable rate – this means I’m putting myself to bed earlier, more relaxed during the days, feeling emotionally better for not just hanging ’round the house a lot.

I have also felt like a weight has been taken off my chest since we moved out to the country. Yes, I still work in the city, but I know I get to leave it at the end of the day!

Stress about the baby has also reduced in a weird way, as we have a plan in place.

The end result of all of this is that my body appears to be waking up. Not too shabby for a lesbian in her ninth year of marriage.

Disturbance alert:

October 7, 2008

Cherry tic-tacs are the devil’s food. I have never tasted anything so rank in all my life. Oh, the disappointment. The tic-tac company has let me down.

  

PS – Yes, I know the final flair has a typo, but it still made me laugh. And for those who are curious, my first sexual experience was NOTHING like cherry tic-tacs.

Recommendations:

September 14, 2008

This weekend was full of good things: sex, pizza, gardening (ie ‘surgical intervention’), rosehip bath oil, and…Flight of the Conchords. One of TMD’s friends from work introduced her, and we spent an embarassing amount of time watching all their shit on YouTube.

TMD’s fave:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lmDTSQtK20c

My fave:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FArZxLj6DLk

Be more constructive with your criticism!

TMD would also recommend watching ‘Business Time.’ To my glee, I have found that there is tons of Flight of the Conchords flair.

While I would like to be a Dar Williams or an Ani DiFranco, I’m fairly certain I’m actually Jemaine from Flight of the Conchords. In case you’re wondering which one he is, he’s the supercute nerdy one that simply HAS to be queer, or else my gaydar is misfunctioning terribly.

Also, how the fuck do I get YouTube stuff right into my blog?

Holding the faith.

September 7, 2008

Yesterday: untold stress, overwhelm, tears, then….a surprise birthday party! Had such a good time, relaxed, will write more about it tomorrow. Have relaxed today as well, but then back to thinking/reading about the things that stressed me yesterday, and am left feeling so tired and emotional. I keep thinking of ringing Kleinette and booking a one-off session, because I just need to have a good weep.

Our appointment at the fertility clinic was yesterday. We never expected IVF to be offered as a first treatment – they briefly explained all the options, and because we’ve never discussed IVF we went ahead with a more in-depth look at stimulated cycle IUI. I will write technical explanations when I don’t feel so fucked up.

At any rate, I think we are seriously considering IVF. If I am willing to donate half my eggs, I get the treatment at a hugely reduced cost – and the success rates are five times that of a natural cycle IUI. This makes IVF both more affordable and much more attractive as far as outcomes go.

I’m just overwhelmed by the idea of daily injections, suppositories, little egg-babies in a petri dish who don’t survive, little egg-babies in my womb who don’t burrow right into my uterine lining. I am in excellent health. I am not an infertile woman. All of my scans have been excellent, my hormone levels are kickin’, and there is always a chance I could conceive without going through IVF. But we only have enough money for three attempts.

IVF success rate at this clinic is 50-55%, and the consultant said because I’m so young it would be nearer to the 55% mark. I also have no reason to believe that I couldn’t support a pregnancy, as I am fertile – unlike many women who go through IVF.

Egg sharing means more tests to make sure I’m not carrying a freaky disease, which pushes the timeline back. I don’t think I mind.

Yesterday I felt so overwhelmed that when we left the clinic I started crying on the street and told TMD I don’t want to do this anymore – I just want to adopt.

I don’t know what the point of this entry is….venting, I suppose. Offloading. The sorts of things I would be saying to Kleinette if I was sitting on her couch. I don’t want to have to be logical. Logic tells me that we should definitely do IVF – and I am happy with that choice. Despite that, I still feel scared, upset, and confused.

All I/we wanted was a baby. I never thought when I was growing up that it would be this fucking involved. Babymaking is, inherantly, supposed to be an intimate act that brings pleasure. I suppose I am mourning the fact that TMD and I have to do it differently.

I just wish I could know it would work.

 

OH. I’ll tell you one more thing, though. Nichiren Buddhism talks about something called sancho shima. I won’t pretend to be incredibly philosophical, but merely say that this means that when you are about to make a very strong step in life, life invariably throws up obstacles. Getting to the clinic yesterday was unbelieveable. We almost missed the fucking appointment, perhaps more details later.

Anyway, I was chanting in my head – the first chanting I’ve done in ages – to arrive by 12. When we finally made it into the city and got on public transport, guess who sat down across from us? A woman reading a book about Nichiren Buddhism – which has NEVER happened before.

Perhaps this is me striving to make coincidence meaningful, but it felt pretty fucking profound, I can tell you. We also made it to the clinic exactly at 12.

Thirty facts about me/my life/etc on my thirtieth birthday!

September 5, 2008

My father has borderline personality disorder,
my mother went into labour with me
on labour day,
my grandmother marched in the first
union march in the
country I was born in.

I love buying journals and have trouble
finishing them. I have five holes in my
ears and no more hole
in my tongue.
I have one crown in my mouth,
no tattoos, and
a serious distaste of earthworms.

I’m 5’8, taller than my mother (only just)
and shorter than my
father. Once, playing under a sleeping bag,
I watched my sister swallow a
penny.
I met TMD in 1998, I moved to this
country permanently in 2001 (we can
ignore the extensive visiting in 2000).

My grandfather had a huge collection
of
Reader’s Digest books,
and he ate popcorn every night from
a giant wooden bowl.
He and my grandmother were
first generation in my home country.

I never thought about being
from that country until I moved
far away from it, and my accent and cultural
habits made me an oddity.

I dislike cutting my toenails (because it’s
icky, not because I want long claw hooks),
I’ve worn glasses since I was eight,
I lost my virginity when I was 16. My wife
has a killer voice
and plays the guitar like a dream.

I have never met my father’s side
of my family,
I have never met my grandparents’
across-the-ocean family,
I wonder sometimes how they fared in
the Holocaust, with all those
death camps sprinkled around.

I am not German or Austrian.

I’ve slept with more boys
than girls
but been with TMD probably longer
than all other relationships combined.
I’m a serial monogomist.

I used to tap dance.
I cannot do a cartwheel.

(I think I counted correctly. Thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday in one way or another. The first fact of my 31st year: I love comments on this diary. It makes me feel listened to, valued, and like someone has reached out to make a connection with me. Love to you all!)

First conversation I had this morning:

August 16, 2008

Me: I know you are I are never going to have genetic children together, but if we did, they’d be fucking cute. That’s all I’m saying.

Corporate T: Yeah, as long as we kept them away from the food.

23 minute train ride.

July 29, 2008

A recap:

The first time I heard the term ‘wet dream’ I was in fifth grade, standing at the bottom of a skiing hill termed as ‘expert.’ It was just after the dinner break in my weekly skiing lessons (for four years), and the sixth graders had just started their sex ed lessons.

A year later I was most disappointed to find out that sex ed really was nothing more exciting than a one hour lesson so boring I can’t even remember it today.

I am an accredited sexual health worker, specialising in working with young people. In fact, I’m accredited at the highest level it is possible to be. I am also a counsellor, a fake special education teacher, a camp director, a writer. Do I really want to train to be a psychologist?

My sign language skills have flown out of my head than they ever flew out of my fingers.

Everything seemed much more disconnected on the train. Here it seems logical, the way things join up. Still, I know I am missing a lot of what happened on the train. Ah, John Mayor (Mayer?), your music couples so well with my green tree-d morning ride.