That Time I Orgasmed At A Tantric Sex Workshop

July 2019

Upon our arrival at Hedo, we were given a little itinerary of the events for the week. This is typical of all-inclusives, but Hedo is unique in that the activities included classes on blowjobs and sexual massage along with your standard beach yoga. 

We placed the itinerary card in a prominent spot in our room, thinking…maybe. I was feeling bold when we arrived, but not that bold. 

But then I had sex on the beach, in the pool hut, and in the playroom. I saw others having a perfectly lovely time fucking on a catamaran in front of others. And I figured…why not? 

On the agenda for Wednesday: “Gushing Goddess Playshop: Female Ejaculation.” This wouldn’t be totally new information. Pre-intercourse days, my main orgasms were reached via my G-spot in the back of Jack’s SUV. 

Once we started having actual intercourse, though, we engaged in fingering a bit less. Then we fell out of this practice during my four pregnancies, when it felt like “too much” for me, and after that we just never picked it up again. It was nearly a decade-old memory by the time we found ourselves stumbling back to the Kama Sutra Palace at Hedo.

I’m not going to lie; I was in full realization that I was about to do something a little “weird” here. The itinerary said to bring a pillow and a towel. Being on the nude side of the resort, clothing was not an option, so naturally we were naked. We were also slightly intoxicated on a mild concoction of liquor and ganja, but hey, I needed the artificial courage. 

Today, the ten full sized mattresses were arranged in a semi-circle on the floor. In the middle was a massage table draped in white sheets. The instructors, a married couple named Kim and Brad, directed us to get comfy on a mattress. 

Jack and I played it cool, like we attend tantric classes in the nude all the time. We strolled over to the mattress to the right of our instructors. A few other couples were already waiting on their own mattresses, lounging and whispering to each other. Others were sitting straight up in a crossed legged position, their backs stiff.

Each mattress was covered with a clean white sheet and a couple towels. At the top corner lay a hand mirror, paper, a pen, and a tiny jar of coconut oil.

Jack sat so that I could spoon into him, my body exposed but his bits covered. 

I made eye contact with the woman next to me and we shared a nervous giggle. She told me, “We took their class yesterday and it was amazing!” 

We began with introductions, like a regular class. We were a diverse group, some couples married and others not, some older and some younger, some thin and others overweight. Everyone seemed friendly and open, of course…I imagine it would be hard to attend a tantric class and be a snob about it. There was no room for judgment here.

There was also no room for backing out at this point. We’d made eye contact. We’d given our names. We’d even raised our hands when the instructor asked who had ever previously experienced squirting during orgasm. I had no idea exactly what I’d signed up for here, but I was pretty sure that I was now in deep enough that it would be more embarrassing for me to up and run than it would be to stay. 

We were committed to finding our boundaries, and pushing them.

The first part of the class was actually pretty boring, but maybe that’s part of the psychology around doing something like this in a group. There was an overview, setting intentions, and a brief lecture. Then they divided us up by gender, the guys going to another room with Brad while us females stayed behind and got more information on the mechanics of female ejaculation. Jack later informed me that they’d gotten similar information, but without this next part.

Kim asked us all to get up and dance. Another mind game? I guess we needed to get our blood flowing after that information dump, but I felt quite stupid twirling to her voodoo music in the nude, and clearly so did everyone else. Maybe that was the point. 

We burned our intentions by the flame of a candle, and then Kim called the guys back in.

After yet another recap of the female anatomy and how to stimulate the G-spot, Kim climbed up on the massage table in the front of the room, rubbing her clit. Brad explained to the guys what he was doing as he put two fingers inside of Kim’s vagina. Her legs were spread apart, with her feet touching, a yoga pose known as “reclining goddess.”

Within what seemed like mere moments, she moaned (as she explained to us earlier, moaning helps you orgasm). Then she squirted.

Well, then. Kim laughed, Brad smiled, and they demonstrated right there that it was possible to do this multiple times in a row. 

Then it was our turn. I was a straight-A student all the way through my second Master’s, maybe because I’m a touch competitive. Maybe I feel like I have something to prove, or maybe I’m too much of a perfectionist. Whatever it may be, I’d done that before, and surely I could do it here.

I glanced around one more time, noting that everyone was consenting, with a loving partner, a bit nervous but perhaps also intrigued. I also noted that I wasn’t going to see these people ever again.

I reclined against Jack’s chest and followed the directions. It reminded me of birthing class, and then of giving birth. I had given birth four times in a room full of strangers, and it was always joyous, natural.

It was time to focus. I shut out the rest of the room and let Kim’s voice guide me. I allowed my body and my sexual energy to overtake me, and I pushed my thinking mind aside. I was safe. I was sensual.
I took hold of the hand mirror and held it between my legs. Jack had a great view, too, but he sees it regularly. It had been awhile since I really looked at my labia this closely. They looked…well, like mine.

I put some coconut oil on my fingers and pulled my labia apart, examining inside. I put one finger into my vagina, crooking my finger to feel for the fleshy bump on the inside. I caressed it gently. I put in another finger. I followed all the instructions. 

Kim had explained that clitoral stimulation is key here, so I let Jack gently rub my clit. I pressed on the spot inside, massaging. Kim described the feeling — when you start to feel really good, on the verge of something — relax your muscles, but push like you’re going to push out some pee. She also explained that it’s not pee, so don’t make this weird.

I closed my eyes, relaxed, and rubbed. The room smelled good, and the whispers and low moans from the other mattresses sounded reassuring rather than intrusive. Jack’s body was warm against mine. I was proud of my body, of how it looked and felt and what it was capable of. Sex wasn’t shameful here; orgasms were wanted. They would be praised. Pleasure was our pursuit. I didn’t have to hide. I could let it all out. 

I focused, and when I felt the heat overtaking my genitals, the tingles extending down my legs, I relaxed into it. Then I pushed. I felt the warm moisture ooze between my legs as I felt something in my psyche burst and swell. I felt good.

I had done it. I was an amazing student, and now I was hungry for more. Peeking around the room, I saw I wasn’t the only one. 

I laid back on the mattress, now letting Jack rest alongside me, his body a shield to the rest of the room. His hand moved from my clit to inside my vagina, his fingers now the ones stroking that special spot. I let a quiet moan escape as I orgasmed again, this one even better, liquid gushing. We’d done this before, but it had been some time. Jack couldn’t have looked any more proud. We quietly whispered and giggled with our heads close together on the mattress. I was spent, for now.

We let our eyes gently wander around the room. There were several couples just holding each other, whispering, kissing, watching. Others were still in the midst of their own exploration. We all waited patiently. 

One woman was up on her knees, her guy behind her, steadying her as she leaned forward, one of her hands on the mattress while her other worked between her legs. Her moans grew louder and more frantic as she orgasmed, minutes passing before she finished and fell back in her lover’s arms. She glanced around the room and then laughed. “I’ve never done that before! Wow!” she proclaimed. We all laughed with her. Kim beamed from her perch on the massage table.

Class was over. There was an aura of camaraderie, relief, and excitement in the air. Sex was not just normalized in the environment of the workshop, it was educational and it was celebrated. 

I was astonished by what I’d done. Not only the PDA stuff, but also those G-spot orgasms. They were different and I craved more. 

Jack felt the same. As we burst out the doors of the Kama Sutra Palace into the hot Jamaican sun, we looked at each other in awe. “Back to the room?” Jack asked, hopefully, longingly. Oh yes.

He fingered me for about two more hours. I easily had thirty orgasms that day. Jack’s forearm was throbbing by the time we were done. His public sex fantasies were being fulfilled, and now squirting class had revived an old technique of ours. Could our sex life get any better?

Yes. Oh, goodness yes.

On Thursday night, we went back to the playroom yet again. This time we had our choice of mattresses. We chose one in the corner, away from the door and counter.

It was quiet as we lay down, focusing our attention on each other, stroking each other, kissing, and looking each other in the eyes. Had we ever felt closer, more connected, more “one” than on this vacation, where our focus was on pleasuring ourselves and each other, surrounded by others?

More people drifted into the room. One guy authoritatively made his way to the counter, plugged in his phone, and blasted the Fifty Shades of Gray soundtrack.

Meanwhile, Jack fingered me, already an expert in the techniques that our tantric class had taught us the day before. I decided not to hold back my moans. I let loose. I shook, I squirted, I giggled with glee as I orgasmed repeatedly.

Beyond warmed up, I pulled him on top of me and insisted that he fuck me with his cock, now, so that I could press his body against my clit for that ultimate release.

Each orgasm indeed felt like a little death — the death of the old Eliza, the Eliza who is afraid of what others think, who second guesses her every move, who puts others’ needs and opinions above her own. The Eliza who doesn’t say what she really thinks, the Eliza who doesn’t speak up. 

That Eliza died somewhere during my orgasms in the Hedo playroom, and a new Eliza was born. She still had a shit ton of growing to do — you’ll see — but we all gotta start somewhere.

“God, I hope everyone saw you,” Jack whispered into my ear as we lay there, sweaty and panting. “You liked that, you naughty girl.” Oh, yes, I had liked that, very much indeed. And I wasn’t ashamed to admit it, though I had no energy for words at that moment. My smile said it all, I’m sure.

I couldn’t keep my hands off Jack. We left the playroom just as aroused as we had entered it. We fucked more back in our room. Jack was getting to the point in the vacation where he was begging me for mercy, joking that he needed other people to help him out. 

Of course, that was just a joke then, but things change.