As I write this, I'm just coming down from Viagra. I could have another
orgasm, I'm sure I could, but I'm on deadline now, and after all, I
swallowed this pill for research, for science, not just to take another
busman's holiday. My pussy may still be puffy, but I have a greater goal in
I spent an enlightening week talking with my best male friends about the
new wonder drug designed to cure impotence, and soon I was ready to score
some Viagra myself. "I must find out the truth!" I cried. I knew enough
about the similarities between male and female erections -- we both have
them, you know -- that I was certain I'd experience some results worth
It's funny how easy it is to talk about Viagra as if it were a street drug.
We're so unaccustomed to getting prescriptions for anything associated with
pleasure. Pain relief certainly is delicious when it's ordered by our
doctors, and many people have mixed their Vicodin with a cocktail to make
bed rest a little more interesting -- but I can't ever remember going to a
pharmacist like I did last Saturday, hoping to God that someone in a white
coat wouldn't lean over the counter and demand, "Just what the hell do you
think you're doing, young lady?"
I'm not even young. But Viagra made me feel like I was 16, particularly an
hour after I took the little blue pill. I'm not talking about sexual vigor,
I'm talking about my emotional state. First, my face got flushed. My lover,
Jon, noticed that I'd turned bright red. I felt a warm circle behind my
eyes, as if I might cry if I could think of something sad. But I wasn't
sad. I had the giggles. I told my roommate, Joe, that I was about to begin
the "experiment," and could he please give Jon and me some privacy.
"Should there be a code you can call out if you need me?" Joe asked. "No,"
I said, "I'll just throw the first exhausted victim out on the carpet and
The thing was, I wasn't horny, I was just a little hysterical. I'd like to
get my hands on a "horny" pill, since I've often envied men's capacity to
spring a boner over the least little thing. In my personal experience, and
particularly post-motherhood, I often find myself turning my back -- and
my clit -- away from some compelling turn-on when I feel the tug of
On my Viagra morning, I planned to pack my daughter off to school by 8
a.m. and pop my pill by 9. But the spirit of Erma Bombeck intervened: My
second-grader spent the whole previous night throwing up, and by Monday
morning she was still a pale little shadow. Could I say, "Fend for
yourself, kid, Mommy's got a sex trip to go on"? Of course not! I babied
her for a couple hours and then she announced that she wanted to go
to school. By this point, my lover and I were desperate for sleep, and I
hadn't eaten anything because drugs are always more powerful on an empty
stomach. I downed the blue tab a little after 10 and just crossed my
fingers, hoping I wouldn't collapse in a heap.
By 11, I was flushed and expectant, but not clawing the walls. I felt
for my clit. There it was, petite and hidden by its hood as usual, not
emerging from my labia like Godzilla from the waves. That felt nice, but
then playing with my pussy always feels nice. I decided I needed to
accelerate the foreplay.
"What should we do first?" I asked Jon. I had a fit of self-consciousness
and dived under my green blanket. What if I'm a dud? What if I just get a
big headache and that's the end of it?
Jon started kissing me and I rode on his knee a little to see how that
felt. The sun was pouring in the windows and I felt elated that I was
making love at all on a Monday morning. He took one of my nipples in his
mouth and -- Wow! -- that was the first thing that really felt
different. For many woman, nipple stimulation is a direct line to their
clit, but not me. It's erotic for me to watch my breasts being played with
and sucked on, but it doesn't ever get me hard -- only this time it did.
I got my first orgasm of the morning in a position that usually doesn't
work for me -- but I have no idea if I can credit that to V-power. We
circled each other 69-style and started licking away. I actually didn't do
much of anything except hold his penis in my mouth like a gag and pretend
that I was being punished for talking too much. I've always hated 69
because I can't concentrate on two things at once. But this time -- I don't
know whether it was my fantasy or the Viagra or my talented lover -- I
came, hard, and it was such a surprise! I guess I was always afraid I'd
bite down if I had an orgasm with a penis in my mouth, but whatever I did,
he seemed to like it.
On to the next round. This time he entered me from behind. I should say he
tried to enter, because this led to the next Viagra discovery: I was
insanely tight. My vaginal walls were like a vise. Talk about
vaso-congestion! I felt like with one squeeze I could make him faint.
"The Hitachi, please!" Suddenly greedy and impatient, I wanted my
vibrator. Yes, I could come again, I felt it easily in my grasp. I'm not
usually multiorgasmic, but I recognized this feeling, where the second
climax comes from a long way back and then crushes you like a clap of
thunder. But instead of thunder, it was like the most delicate, melting
chocolate cream egg cracking inside my cunt.
Then I wanted Jon out of me. "Let's have snacks," he suggested, and paused
for ginger ale and crackers, which led to more kissing and looking in the
hand mirror -- yes, my vulva was closer to royal purple than pink -- and if
I put my finger inside, the viselike grip was still there. Jon still hadn't
had an orgasm, so we did it one more time, this time just for him. I
thought about how these "selfish" sex enhancement drugs have a disadvantage
for people like me because my partner's excitement moves me so much that
I'd rather be able to come from that alone.
Aphrodisiac-wise, I must say that nothing will ever beat Quaaludes --
whatever happened to those? Even pot or a couple drinks have the potential
to make me feel uninhibited and impulsive. Viagra, as its manufacturers
note, doesn't put you "in the mood" at all. If you're an uptight bitch,
you're still going to be an uptight bitch an hour after taking it, albeit
with a LOT of extra vaso-congestion. One interesting side effect was that
the increased blood supply to my pelvis made my chronic backache disappear,
and to tell you the truth, the relief was sexually inspiring all by itself.
I hear that Hugh Hefner, high on Viagra, is opening his mansion to sex
parties once again. I can't help observing that he has a lot going for him
besides a new wonder drug -- like time, money and his famous sense of
entitlement. Personally, I could have a damn good Monday next week, little
blue pill or not. Just give me those six hours to do anything I please.