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To Fake or Not to Fake: That is the Orgasm

Happy National Orgasm Day! This updated and modified article was previously published on Medium.

7/31/20266 min read

Some believe that faking an orgasm is the sexual equivalent of giving someone a participation trophy. Others use feigning climax as a tool of seduction. So who’s right?

Ah, the mighty orgasm. The potential catalyst for new life. The beginning of the end (depending on the refractory period). The overwhelming sensation that holds the power to give us the signal if the partner we’re playing with is worthy of our fluid and energetic exchange. So why is there so much fuss around faking orgasms? Why do people feel compelled or pressured to breathily exclaim Oh my God! when there’s no Oh anywhere to be felt?

A decade ago as a sex writer, I learned to approach the subject of intimacy and sexual health as though they were my friends who were always up for a chat. Ever since, I’ve regarded the orgasm as my bestie, because it was then that I learned that not everyone is able to reach climax, during sex or otherwise. There’s no shame in that, but we all deserve to enjoy the trembling release of la petite mort, regardless of how it might happen (either with a play partner or solo).

This brings us to the discussion of faked O’s. Sounds like a chemically over-sweetened breakfast cereal, doesn’t it? The first time I encountered the notion of counterfeit cum, a reader had written to me about how the only way she knew how to get her boyfriend to arrive himself was to fake her own orgasm. She hadn’t actually reached orgasm with him at the time of her writing.

Excuse Me?

Fake a what? I was truly befuddled. Why would anyone go for the knockoff version of getting off? I’ve never faked an orgasm in my life, mostly because it never occurred to me to do so. Before my husband, I didn’t climax every time I had sex, but it was close. When it didn’t happen, I didn’t feel the need to act like it did, and I certainly didn’t lie about it. When the reader explained her process, the biggest thing that stood out to me was that she was too embarrassed to tell her partner what she wanted/where she wanted him to go. Her inability to reach her sexual summit boiled down to a lack of communication.

This struck me as the inevitable result of the shame surrounding discussions about sex and sexual health. These are generally such socioculturally taboo topics and I have no idea why. Sex is the reason most of us are here. That’s such a beautiful thing. Sexual intimacy is a gift and should be celebrated as such. Beyond that, sex is just plain fun. If merely talking about sex is tainted by shame and hampered by discomfort, then of course talking about orgasms is off the table.

We need to normalize getting it on the table.

According to a study in the Archives of Sexual Behavior, 58.8% of women respondents admitted to pretending that they feigned their sexplosion at some point in their lives, with the most common reason being their desire to not hurt their partner’s feelings. Another reason was because they were too embarrassed to give instructions during sex. Some men also fake their orgasms in order to spare their partner’s feelings. Additional reasons that men have given for throwing the faux O include wanting to get sex over with, and, this one surprised me — concealing having prematurely ejaculated.

I can’t help but wonder if feeling more comfortable with communicating needs and desires before and during sex could have the potential to increase orgasms. I get it, sometimes the body just isn’t primed for arrival. I’ve been there too — it was more fun to squeeze the fruit purely for the hell of it and not necessarily because I wanted the juice. And frankly, after going for a few rounds, the body’s just spent.

In every aspect of every relationship, communication is key. The more information the other party has, the stronger the connection becomes. This very much applies to the time spent together in the sack. Giving instructions while fucking is sexy, y’all. I mean it. There is no shame in giving directions so that y’all can reach those places together. Imagine your favorite voice whispering…

Yeah, right there. Harder. Faster. Go deeper. Slow down. Pull my hair.

See? Sexy. No need to hesitate when it comes to communicating en coitus.

Asking for consent throughout the process is also incredibly sexy:

Do you like this? Want me to keep going? Does this feel good? You can tell me to stop. Can you handle it? Tell me you want this...

Sex education is education about life. People deserve to know about their bodies. When I turned 10, my mom fast-forwarded The Miracle of Life to the birthing scene. She knew that I would soon experience menarche. That beautifully grotesque scene haunts me to this day, but I’m grateful that as soon as my hormones kicked in, she empowered me with enough autonomy and knowledge over my body and emphasized the control I have over any actions I may take with it. Having sex was my choice, so I should choose to be safe about it. Pregnancy was something I could prevent, so I was empowered to prevent it.

Orgasming is also a choice. As more people shared their experiences surrounding elusive orgasms, the biggest reasons for hitting orgasmic blocks were rooted in shame and frankly, a lack of instruction. Apparently, some people aren’t comfortable with talking during sex. I should also mention that when it comes to heterosexual sex, it’s super helpful when the dude knows where the clitoris is. Intercourse between same-sex partners result in higher instances of reaching orgasm.

Wait! Before we discuss the love button, we should start with the hole count. There is a video of a twenty-something year old man and his friends who went viral a few years ago because he believed that women only had one hole below the belt.

You read that right. That young man (I'm hoping that it was a hoax) didn’t believe that his friends who used tampons didn’t need to remove said tampon in order to urinate. He didn’t know that we have ~~three~~ seven holes down there. He also asked the only other dude in the video for confirmation of the number of holes we have below our waists. This wasn’t the first instance that moment of enlightenment was captured on video.

This is why sex education is beyond important — it benefits future partners and society in general. Not knowing how many holes a sex partner has might be a hindrance to pleasing them, no?

Speaking of pleasing someone’s body, there’s nothing like knowing the body that belongs to you. Masturbation is the first step to being able to experience pleasure with another person. Self-manipulation helps us learn what feels good; where our spots are, and knowing that about ourselves will give us the tools to share our map with our partner(s). It’s one of the healthiest things we can do.

The clitoris is the fair exchange that nature has given us for the curse of menstrual cramps and bleeding for days on end every month, pregnancy, and childbirth. Its sole function is pleasure. Admittedly, mine is the reason I thought the song “Can’t Feel My Face” by The Weeknd was about orgasms.

I was wrong about the song.

Thirty-eight percent of straight women surveyed noted that they could only reach orgasm during intercourse from clitoral stimulation. Only around 12% indicated that they could reach orgasm from penetrative sex nearly every time they had heterosexual intercourse. Stimulation of the g-spot is responsible for penetrative orgasms. That bodyquake-inducing spot is also a part of the clitoral network. The thing about the clit (and the g-spot) is that some men need a map, directions, a compass, and a flashlight in order to find it. Here’s a hint: the graphic in the header image of this article shows how the fingers should be positioned for stimulation.

Here’s another adequate representation of the twelve o’clock position of that tiny pleasure center:

And when you find it, touch it the same way you would've touched this:

Image Source: Inklein, CC BY 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons

Softly, gently at first, and then listen for the instructions you’re given.

There are plenty of reasons to feign climaxing, and all of them are valid. But faking your O won't help you reach your destination, and it won't guide your partner toward the pleasure you both deserve. There are also plenty of ways to reach orgasm, so if that’s where you want your partner to take you, then have a conversation about it, before you have sex. What you want matters. Make it fun for the both of you (or however many of you are getting it on, I won’t kink shame). You’re already connecting with them using your body; it’s perfectly acceptable and even more tittilating to connect with them using your voice. I mean, how much shame can we actually carry when we’re already naked with that person? Prioritize your corporeal pleasure.

You’re worthy of enjoying every pleasurable sensation in your body that you crave.

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