“The Most Meta Orgasm of My Life” or How I Finally Began to Understand Self-Love

10 minutes into scrolling through bad, jackhammer-y porn, I was ready to give up. I was horny and desperate to get off to something that was not so performative or obviously filtered through the male gaze. I wanted to see a real person experiencing genuine, orgasmic pleasure.

A real person like…well, me. And that is when I realised I’d never find that someone in any video unless that someone was actually me.
I did not have the interest (or the time, let’s be real) to attempt to get myself cast in some kind of off-Broadway version of a porn shoot, but there was something instantly sexy about the idea of filming myself right there on my phone. Except. Every insecurity I have ever had begged me not to open my camera app. There was the way I hated how my boobs sagged, the stretch marks I was always trying to cover up. To be captured somewhat permanently, exposed, in motion, on display? ‘And sure’, I thought, ‘I am sex positive—but is being sex positive enough for this?’.

Intrigue (and horniness) won out. I set up my phone across from me, got out a vibrator, and pressed ‘record’. And then…I was caught up in the moment, running my hands over my stomach rolls, feeling the warmth of my fingertips shooting what felt like electricity through my stretch-marked skin. It was hot. So hot that I came—quickly and intensely. Satisfied, I put the video out of my mind for a while. I was not sure if I’d ever watch it back or if I should delete it rather than risk the shame I thought I might feel the second I pressed ‘play’. But the next time I wanted to cum and instinctively went to pull up porn, I paused. I figured I owed it to myself to see what I had captured. So I propped up my phone again, this time in playback mode, and turned on my vibrator. You know what? It was still really f*cking hot. The self-disgust I was expecting never came. There I was, a body type rarely seen in mainstream porn, enjoying myself in the most intimate of ways. I was now a voyeur to my own pleasure, and it was so arousing that I was able to overlook the details I usually fixate on in the mirror.

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Now I have had some incredible climaxes in my life, but what happened next was different. Every inch of me was tingling; my eyes even lost focus. And just when I thought I was done, I felt the strangest sensation: my muscles started clenching around my vibrator again. I was going straight into another orgasm, and this time, I squirted. Hard. For the first time ever. When I finally recovered (and honestly, I have no idea how long that took), I just lay there in breathless silence.It was the strongest orgasm I have ever had. Not to mention a radical education in what my body—my body!—could do. Was it enough to erase years 
of hating what I look like in photos or cure all of my insecurities forever? No. But being able to see myself accepting pleasure—not from just anyone but from me—was a revelation. It showed me that my form is so much more than something to hide in the dark during partnered sex. It is the vessel to my own satisfaction.

And yes, since I know you are curious, I still have the video. It makes me feel like my phone is a white-hot secret vault—whenever I hand it to someone, I have a moment of panic that they might swipe to it. But not because I’d mind. Instead because it is, of course, all for me.