Last week, after we heard news that one of those local lit-chiks was shopping around a memoir, Thanks For Coming, about her lifelong failure to have an orgasm, we urged you all to come forward with your first self-made orgasm stories, in faint hopes it might put this young lady out of her misery and also, keep said misery from killing any more life-deserving trees. And boy did the tales, er, come. Much to our admiring disgust, the bulk of you been coming since before you could read, thanks to sometimes-serendipitous help from hot tub jets, "Squiggle Pens", and parents on the Renaissance Faire circuit. Still, some of you, like, er, some (or like one) of us, were late-blooming about this stuff. One of you figured it out, probably coincidentally, at the age you were legally allowed to become President, another of you endured a whole orgasm-free marriage. But one of story stood out, if only for being equal parts embarrassing and somehow universal — the stuff great memoirs are made of! — and that would be lapsed Protestant So5MinutesAgo's tale of being drunkenly, publicly shamed into it by friends on her 24th birthday, unabridged here.
Kinja is in read-only mode. We are working to restore service.