For a little over 10 years my most common way to “come” was squirting or ejaculating, whatever term you prefer and if you believe it's a real come or not.
It started when a lover of mine, after he and I had had a delicious day of outdoor exhibitionist sex at one of our local nude beaches, didn't let up on my pussy's ravenous hunger for penetration. He deftly worked a curved tip dildo in and out of my vagina while I writhed happily on the back seat of his volvo. I massaged my clit with whatever lube we had at the time and mixed it in with a little bit of wine for a Bacchus aromatic effect.
The sun was settling in for the night. In the glow of its fading golden light, I occasionally came out of my reverie and we then gazed into each others eyes. He had spent some time with a Tantrika who taught him the rudiments of her yogic practice. This made him determined to make what he called my amrita come flowing out of the inner recesses of my yoni. Suddenly, it happened. I felt the first gush of warm liquid spill over onto my vulva lips and my fingers. I quickly opened my eyes to the sight of a mini fountain of clear liquid rising out of my pussy. It was all quite romantic.
While I melted into this sweet and warm release of feeling, something coming out of me versus something convulsing within me, he grabbed a beach towel placing it under by bottom to sop up the musky smelling waters that escaped over the dam. He said to me, “ Now you will always squirt.” So like a hypnotist's subject, I followed his directions, at least for the next decade or so.
I really did enjoy this female ejaculating a lot of the time, though I spent hard earned cash on a couple of ruined mattresses, blankets, pads and spent precious time washing a multitude of towels every week. It could be labor intensive preparing my bed for a hot night of wet sex. Sometimes the waters smelled like pee, sometimes not, or very little anyway. Sometimes the spot on the bed was slightly yellow, sometimes not. Some men loved to drink me, some did not. I didn't know the true science of what my pussy's squirting was all about. I didn't question it really until I went to Betty's BodySex workshop. Vulva show and tell told it all.
When Betty and I together gazed at my vulva in the mirror before me she asked me to squeeze my pubococcygeal muscle and for the life of me, no matter how hard I tried, I could not make my inner muscles go in and up, only out. She explained to me that all that gushing was causing my pussy to lose its strength and I needed to Kegel like someone practicing piano everyday. It was also moving my orgasmic energy out of my clit, though I was having orgasms still with my clit but not as frequently as 10 years ago. I instead was giving in to the fountain effect or what she called it, a parlor trick.
My lover and I, at the time, were having difficulty with me coming during intercourse which is not that big a deal since vibrators were a welcomed tool in our partner sex. However, once I began a daily and sometimes hourly Kegel practice and consciously moved the energy away from the “release” and instead focused on my clit being the pleasure of our sex together, I did have mind blowing orgasms with him sans vibrator and very little release or none of ejaculate, amrita, gush, squirt, pee or whatever the hell that was that rushed out of me.
Tonight, 10 months after BodySex, I got out the mirror and looked well into the face of my vulva, Precious Frisky, and watched her do her stuff. My inner muscles go in and up like I want them to. I have my strength, my power, my real pleasure back. I am not giving it away to the universe out there uselessly to be spilt out and dried up by the sun. I am pulling it up and inside of me and my creativity can now be used orgasmically, wisely and well for myself and others. At the very least, that's my hope and my dream.