There is a general understanding surrounding sex on this campus concerning who comes and who doesn’t. Maybe it spans beyond this small campus, but we’ll limit our scientific study and broad generalizations to Dartmouth. The understanding involves straight sex, a man, a woman, and one orgasm. But whose orgasm?

The man’s orgasm. Sorry for being biased, but the male orgasm is so damn unmysterious and, dare I say it, boring. As my XY chromosomed friend informed me when I asked him to describe his orgasm to me, you just pump and then climax. Boom.

Booooooorrrrriiinnnnngggg. So back to the situation described above, imagine this sex session: his penis enters her vagina, sashays back and forth a bit, hopefully she likes the feeling, and then he cums. On a scale from 1 to 10, how normal would you rate this interaction? I’d give it a resounding 9.5 for normality, with that extra 0.5 accounting for any errors in my data collection and processing (told you this was scientific).

I don’t want to say anything sacrilegious about sex in a sex column, but that type of sex, the sex that revolves solely around the man splooging, is just as boring to me as the actual male orgasm. And yet, this idea about sex seems completely normal, and even expected, especially within the bounds of the straight “hookup culture” at Dartmouth. It is when we reverse it that people become somewhat uncomfortable. Let us imagine instead that as sexual shenanigans get heavy between a male and female, it is she who comes first! She is tired, perhaps he is too, and they fall asleep, her cervix still wet from the recent orgasm. The next time these two hook up, she again comes first, and he does not. Repeat indefinitely and sprinkle in some orgasms for the male every now and then.

That’d seem weird right? For many women, the vagina’s biological refractory period after orgasm is about zero seconds, a sizable contrast to its counterpart, the dick. So for these vaginas, this situation of one-sided orgasms is perhaps a little far-fetched, but hopefully you have followed along with my thought experiment anyways. It certainly makes me gnash my teeth knowing that many couples out there have fallen into the lonely-male-orgasm hole. Maybe I have penis envy, maybe I’m just bitter that my orgasm isn’t usually the first priority with a partner, whatever. There’s one thing that keeps me going through the cold nights and unfulfilled horniness: the female orgasm.

I think I had a seizure. The intense release of muscle tension caused one thigh to cramp up. My ears were ringing afterwards and I was light-headed, dizzy, and weak. The next day I noticed mysterious general muscle soreness, as if I had worked out or something. Some external places in the vaginal region were sensitive to the touch and seemed almost bruised.

It’s ok, no one beat me up. The blame for my ailments rests completely on his dick and my two fingers. Perhaps I should be nicer and expand “dick” to “male Dartmouth student,” since his penis was particularly nice and not necessarily directly interchangeable with another one. Whatever—this man/dick gave me a 10 second orgasm.

A lot can happen in 10 seconds, especially if within the next 10 seconds after the initial 10 seconds, you cum again. Multiple female orgasms, fuck yeah.

If sex is generally hailed as a good painkiller by medical experts, then I’m gonna say that the female orgasm is straight up Oxycontin, which explains my ignorance of all the injuries sustained. One typical horny day I was lying in my bathtub masturbating, and forgetting that the tub was porcelain and I was not, I managed to bruise my lower back for a week. I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but I’ve made a note to stop by Walmart and buy some kind of waterproof geriatric shower cushioning next time I’m on a trip to un-dun. While my back healed, masturbation helped with the pain. Maybe you can see how this might turn into a vicious cycle.

I want to say one more thing before this column ends and you realize you have 40 papers to write by tomorrow and zero time to stick your hands down your pants. When the post-finals sex comes around, think about that female orgasm yo. Here’s one nice way to achieve female orgasm with a male partner for those beginners out there. Rated super easy. Necessary active participants: 2. Assume missionary position and vaginal penetration, with the male raised on both arms so that the female can reach down and stimulate her clit. The male then thrusts according to female direction. This appears to be the key for most women, the combination of vaginal and clitoral stimulation. You each take care of one job– pretty efficient!

Everyone deserves a bust/squirt now and then, from the XX to the XY. If you find yourself in a one-orgasm, two-person situation, do your best to change it! Only you can prevent unrequited orgasms.

Sexy Spring has sprung. Photo courtesy of Robert S. Donovan, Flickr

Spring sex. There’s nothing like it. For some reason, every single animate being in the world just wants to fuck. It’s on the minds of everyone walking across the green, all those people shedding clothes and tousling hair. In the winter you only wanted someone in your bed to keep you warm, but now it’s spring and you… just… want… to… fuck.

It’s a new season, and new beginnings for relationships. Who doesn’t like new relationships? I recently had crème brûlée for the first time at Murphy’s with my new boyfriend, and it was delicious, just like him. Cracking through the hard sugar caramel to get to the creamy white insides seemed too coincidentally similar to a blowjob served on a dessert platter.

I hadn’t given a blowjob in a very long time.

I was kept off my knees from a general distaste of sweaty hair, tired tongue and jaw muscles, and the texture of semen. But people had started to notice, like my boyfriend, when he mentioned as a sidenote that I must not really like sucking cock. It also came up in a conversation with a gay friend, one of a few men who actually know the truth about BJ’s: it is better to receive than to give.

Well, it was time I added something new to my routine, in the spirit of spring: the blowjob. How would I incorporate it ? Is a blowjob something you do before sex? In the morning? The shower? Public locations? Just while chilling in the room? I was looking for the perfect moment to break it out.

The other new thing on my list to try this spring was the Dartmouth Seven. Since the closest I’d come to any of the Seven was the cemetery (which isn’t even one of the Seven), it was time to think about incorporating the Seven into my sex too. So there they were—the blowjob and the Seven. I hadn’t connected them consciously, but I would soon.

We sit in the 1902 room, which is, of course, the place with the most stress and spring horniness on this campus, creating a potent mixture of sexual tension. Therefore it feels very appropriate when the boyfriend slides over a piece of scrap paper: “I’m horny.”

“Quick,” I write, “before it’s 2 a.m.!” The truth dawns on him. Yes, yes my friend, we are going to have sex in the stacks. We saunter out of the room with the knowledge that we are about to get some heavy on our minds. Twenty disapproving glances at the loudness and disruptive quality of our footsteps come our way, but we don’t notice.

We descend into the stacks and find a dead-end dark row in the back of the second basement’s appendix. I step up onto the first set of shelves after he pulls my shorts off, my back leveraged against the wall, a perfect angle to fuck. But wait! We have no condom! He confesses that he might soon blow his load; it can’t go in me, and it can’t go on the books.

He comes in my mouth. Crème brûlée.

Cum—the elixir of spring, just as keystone light was the elixir of winter. It flows across campus and people are seen swimming through it on beautiful spring morning walks of shame. That’s another great, new feeling on campus—the idea that the weather might be warm enough to walk home disheveled at 7 a.m. Listen to the birds calling. Wasn’t that great sex last night right next to the open window and the flowering trees outside!? Fuck me!

Sexy spring will make you do crazy things, as my previously mentioned friend can attest to. After looking across the drunken haze of a basement, he spots a hot little piece of meat who was eyeing him too. A couple winks later, and feeling drunk off of spring lust, he marches straight up to the man and starts making out.
“It was intense,” he reports.

Hello readers, this is SEX, and hopefully will appear regularly in future DFP issues. If not, then forgive me; I’m probably just not getting any ass at the moment and am feeling bitter about it. For the first appearance of SEX, the column, I’d like to talk about the Sexperts. Many of us have experienced something that has to do with the Sexperts, whether it was a special freshmen floor meeting about sex, the Sex Fair, or the “Consensual sex is hot” summer event.

The Sexperts are great, but don’t listen to a word they say.

The last time I went to a Sexperts meeting, my Freshman fall, I was gently reminded that giving a blow job was not actually about blowing anything. Then we got to pass around some anal beads and other toys. Because of you, S’perts, I got to hold anal beads, something that I might not have done in real life. For that I thank you.
It just seemed quite a big jump to make, from pointers for the uninitiated blower all the way to anal beads. Institutionalizing sex can make a one-shop stop for all things sexually-oriented, but it is overlooking one key sex point:

“[Sex] is many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting [sex] is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that is which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible.” (The Half-Blood Prince, 153)

What does this mean? It means that, like Harry Potter, the only way you are going to survive sex is to have a group of loyal friends by your side, not an institution. After all, Dartmouth is Hogwarts (and Disneyland, but I’ll deal with that in a different issue.)

Let’s make a hypothetical situation. I want to start masturbating, but I’m confused and scared as to what I might find down there and what exactly I’m supposed to do. I contact the Sexperts, who then refer me to a Sexperts mentor. This mentor proceeds to tell me some general information like: make sure you are relaxed, in a comfortable place, maybe get some lube and a mirror, just go slowly and gently, caress your clit with two fingers, etc. I then ask my friend for some masturbation advice. She goes into graphic detail, waxes poetic about her powerful personal orgasm just last night, then lends me her (thoroughly sanitized) bullet. Sexperts do not offer a lending library of sex toys. Friend-1, Sexperts-0.

Since Sexperts have had 24 hours of training in general sexual knowledge, including “pleasure-based sexuality,” then they know about sex… right? They officially have, what I like to call “Google-based knowledge”. As in, JFGI, “just fucking Google it.” The third Google hit on “female masturbation techniques” is clitical.com, which I found extremely helpful. It also features erotic stories to get you in the mood, a service that Sexperts does not offer. So maybe you’re wondering about BDSM and butt plugs. I would recommend urbandictionary.com. Internet-1, Sexperts-0.

Don’t get me wrong, I happen to be sitting next to a Sexpert right now, and he knows a lot about sex. I would never demean his vast knowledge by saying that Google is better than him. My point is that sex institutions will never be able to tell you about sex in all of its finest subtleties. If you’d like to know whether olive oil can be used as lube in conjunction with a latex condom (no, it can’t), and you are too lazy to JFGI, then Sexperts will provide you with the correct answer. But if you are having a little difficulty having sex with your girl due to your massive penis and her small cervix, or you’re curious and want to know more about the intricacies of gay sex, then you shouldn’t listen to a word Sexperts has to say. If you want to hold some sex toys and practice putting a condom on a dildo, then Sexperts has some great programming for that. But if you need advice on how to introduce the subject of sex toys to your boy toy, don’t listen to a word they say.

So, reader, next time you’re in Collis and notice the subtle smell of strawberry lube emanating from Commonground and pass straight by the condom fairy inviting you in, don’t feel bad. You’re not missing anything. Just go home, fuck around on Google, and have some pillow talk with your roommate. Trust me.