Come With Me
My Magic Sybian Ride
I want this, and yet it feels so elusive. Pleasure is teasing at the edge of my consciousness; over here, no, over there. Trying to grab hold of it feels like tightening your grip on a fistful of sand. Even once I’ve focused in on the fleeting sensations, climbing to the pinnacle is like that old child’s game, Chutes and Ladders. When I’m able to ascend a flight or two toward the top, one stray thought or worry I suddenly feel myself sliding back down to where I started, searching around inside myself for an inkling of the building bliss I’d had hold of just a moment ago.
If I find it, it’s often like starting from scratch, and another part of my mind is at work, flipping through the catalogue of things that have worked in the past to try and pinpoint what might work today. Do I need my nipples stimulated? More pressure or less? Maybe something inside me, putting pressure on that sensitive spot. The glass one or stainless steel? Or do I want that vibrating one?
The problem is there isn’t a recipe for orgasm. What goes into making a good one changes each time. It’s not skill but luck, mostly, that enables me to find the perfect combination to push me over that edge. They say practice makes perfect, but not necessarily when it comes to clitoral and vaginal orgasm. Practice makes me more aware of what could work, potentially, but the outcome is rarely perfect and often a complete surprise.
This time, I’m climbing again and pleasure is tickling behind my pubic bone. I will myself to contract my muscles, let go, contract again, then hold it while it builds some more. I think I’m there and I tell my lover, “Don’t stop,” and he doesn’t and I’ve made it and I ride that crest as long as I can until I relax all my tensed muscles with a sigh.
Like many vulva-owners, I first discovered how to orgasm quite by accident. I remember ‘that tickly feeling’ I go while subtly rubbing against the seam of my pants or fumbling with my fingers. Later, by maneuvering myself so that the bathtub stream trickled over my clit, warm and insistent. Eventually, I discovered vibrators, and the way to achieve orgasm nearly on demand. There has been a lot of experimentation since, with numerous types of toys, but vibrators are the primary way that I consistently climax.
Even back then, when the sensations were quite new, orgasm was not necessarily a foregone conclusion when you’re working with this particular genital configuration. It still isn’t guaranteed. Of course, I don’t know from experience if it’s easier with a penis, but it sure looks to be the case, and I’ve never observed my lovers concentrating quite as much as I do. Coming is not something that just happens for me; it is something I have to work for, concentrate on. It’s a project. While I learned a long time ago how to identify when a wave is building, and how to flex and relax my muscles to encourage it, it is not an exact science and I sometimes fail to reach climax at all, even when it’s something I really want to happen.
It’s cliché to say it’s sort of like riding a bicycle, but it’s true. Once you’ve discovered your balance, you can repeat the motions, rely on muscle memory, and usually achieve the same result. Sometimes you have to go uphill and it takes a bit more effort. Occasionally you hit a curb or a root and it throws off your momentum, and even if you don’t take a spill, you may take a while to recover your balance and confidence. Then, the ride may end before you’ve really gotten where you wanted to go.
It’s been this way, for me, no matter what the stimulation, throughout the course of my sexual history. It’s been this way until I met the Sybian.
I’ve known about the Sybian for decades. I’ve seen it online and in amateur porn. It certainly looked like those riding the thing were enjoying themselves but I don’t really trust porn reactions, even amateur ones. I already have more trouble climaxing while on top, so the thought of straddling a toy rather than reclining to use it didn’t exactly appeal to me. That was all before I had the opportunity to try one for myself.
Where having an orgasm via any other means is like riding a bicycle, riding the Sybian is strapping myself into the biggest, most badass roller coaster in the park. Shooting out of the station and ascending that first big hill, there’s no going back and all you can do is hold on for the ride. Coming on the Sybian is such a treat, after decades of having to focus, flex, and work for a climax.
If you are a vulva-owner, and you have never ridden a Sybian, you owe it to yourself to try. Add it to the bucket list. There are several ways to test it out despite the challenging price tag; in-home trial, adult clubs, or you might be lucky enough to know someone who owns this iconic sex toy and will let you try it out. Find a way to ride it, at least once, and see if your experience is similar to mine. You won’t regret it.
I do feel it first there, on the sensitive nub of my clitoris, although my entire vulva is against the machine. I can actually feel my clit becoming engorged, throbbing and growing. The sensation spreads quite quickly, up and warm through my belly and down my thighs. My muscles are pulsing and contracting without my willing them to, grabbing the waves of pleasure and pulling them more deeply inside, beyond my flesh. My body moves of its own volition, grinding close to the rumbling vibration, then pulling away quickly as if touching something too hot to handle.
Yet I keep finding my way back to that flame, needing that ignition, that sensation, to set off the fireworks of delight that are beginning to burst at my core. These mini-explosions repeat, increase, and spread further inside me, following each other in rapid succession like popcorn until there are so many occurring at once I can’t tease out the individual detonations any longer. Instead, there is just one eruption, involving my entire body. Someone is making loud and high-pitched, yet guttural sounds, and I realize it’s me, but it is as out of my control as every other sensation coursing through me from head to toe.
There is no way to make the pulsations stop, not that I’d want to. All I can do as they continue is collapse into my lovers’ arms, concurrently laughing and weeping. The spasms continue, though less intense, as we ease the Vibration dial down. I roll off the machine, and lie on my side, muscles weak and twitching, utterly sated, and my lover curls behind me.