Hi. I go by the alias iovys. There isn’t any story behind the name ‘iovys’ itself. I came up with it around 2012 for fun and left it at that. I’m based in NY, in my 20’s, and like to masturbate, just like majority of the population.
This section of the blog, the About, discusses the purpose of Miss Climax and how this blog came to be. Pun not really intended, but hey. I want this blog to give hope to women who have never orgasmed before, and to trust in themselves, keep trying, and believe that one day it’ll happen.
If I had given up ten years ago, I would have never gotten to where I am now. Believe it or not, anorgasmia’s a thing, a terrible thing at that. There are many variants of it, and it’s not uncommon for women to suffer from it. I want to share my story on how I (mostly) got past mine.
I’ve been delving into self-pleasure since 2007, maybe earlier. I can’t pinpoint when, exactly, because at first it wasn’t even intentional. Basically, I’ve been going at it since sometime in late elementary school/early junior high. I was brought up in a somewhat religious family – we attended mass every Sunday, confession was a thing, and sex related topics were bad. Always bad.
As a result, I had developed primary anorgasmia (a condition where one has never experienced an orgasm), and this stuck with me for many years. Even with 3-4 hour sessions I wasn’t able to achieve climax. Edging can be nice once in a blue moon, but I’m no masochist.
It was incredibly frustrating. I enjoyed the process, but it always got to the point where it wasn’t satisfying enough. It always brought about frustration. I would find myself unable to hold back frustrated tears as my partner at the time would look up at me from between my thighs.
It’s not that said partner wasn’t doing a good job – it was very pleasing and stimulating. But truth be told, nothing ever “did the job”. No matter how long it went on for, no matter what toy I used, or where I did it… there was no orgasm. I evidently had a mental block going on from the religious upbringing.
As the years went by, I broke up with that partner. It was a relationship that lasted some 4 years. We weren’t meant to be. It was actually a very domineering, abusive, and confining relationship. I was blind to these things, though, as I was head over heels in love with that person. But one day, with just two words, my trust was fragmented, and I was able to see through the cracks. We parted ways shortly after.
I started talking more, making friends online, talking with them – eventually about my troubles and doubts and worries. I suppose it was almost like the sex therapy I probably would have needed because of the upbringing I mentioned earlier. I bought a few sex toys from a local shop; my best friend kept me company and made my awkwardness around sexual topics dissolve. I can’t thank these people that helped me overcome myself enough.
I was assured that self-pleasure and sex were natural, that it’s okay to enjoy, and in fact, healthy on a psychological level. My best friend convinced me that it wasn’t sinful to feel new things, and to remember to breathe. Eventually my body began to respond. Not to the sex toys, but to the showerhead. At first, I thought it was a fluke, but as I looked into it more, I convinced myself otherwise.
I started playing more with the stream of water as I laid in the bathtub. It was then that I learned how to squirt. At first, I thought that squirting was synonymous with orgasming (it’s not). Honestly, I thought I was just peeing. But I realized that peeing and squirting felt different and the fluid that came out had different coloring. I started reading into it, doing it more. And the more I did it, the better I got at it.
Those toys I bought earlier (rather expensive for someone that just finished high school back then) were collecting dust by the pound. They were nice to have, but never brought me to that sought-out peak. Eventually, I bought the top-rated rabbit vibe from Amazon. In contrast to the previous toys, this thing was a fraction of the price, and I figured I’d give self-pleasure yet another try. Maybe I needed the dual kind of stimulation for both my clit and the rumored G-Spot.
So, I convinced myself it wasn’t against God’s will, and that this wouldn’t be something that should be punished. In silent mantra, I told myself it was fine, confident that if I managed, it wouldn’t bring pain or fear, and on the 14th of December in 2018, my body finally let me cum. It took me over ten years to orgasm. Typing that out makes me feel sorry for myself. But I’m not here to dwell on self-pity.
I remember this rush of warmth quickly radiating from my abdomen into my arms and legs. Every fiber of my being was encompassed by it, and it came in these wonderful gentle ripples. For a few brief moments, I thought I had become the waves lapping softly at the seashore.
And then I was back on earth, with the rabbit still happily buzzing away in my hand. I laid there, dumbfounded, at a loss for words, and stared into the ceiling, wondering where I had gone wrong all these years. Aside from that, I was ridiculously high off of that first surge of dopamine and serotonin (neurotransmitters that get released during and after) that came with orgasm. I was literally a fucking glowstick.
I felt warm and melty all over for a good two hours after it had happened. God, it was fantastic. I always thought that the women on film were faking it, that it was solely for entertainment, that it wasn’t even physically possible for women to orgasm. I figured that my best friend was obviously lying to me, and that even if it were true, it probably wasn’t as amazing as the entire internet had been saying.
Since then, I’ve gotten better at figuring out what makes me cum. It no longer takes me over 1.5hr to get there, as it did when I first managed. I still don’t cum 100% of the time, I still struggle, a lot, even when I “do everything right”. It really depends on the situation I’m in. As such, I’ve got Situational Anorgasmia. But at least I can tell the difference between a-fucking-mazing orgasms and just ‘meh’ ones.
I got addicted to trying to make myself cum. Who wouldn’t? I felt like a pre-teen that just figured out how to do it. Better late than never, eh? I started looking into more toys. I joined EdenFantasys’ Review Program, got hold of a good few dozen toys, and dished out some 15 essay-worthy reviews for them. Quite proud of them, really. I took on students and taught them my ways as well.
But I realized that I wanted to have more power over the content I posted. I wanted to reach out to those who struggle to reach orgasm on a regular basis, just like me, and try to point them in the right direction. Perhaps even somehow help them awaken the slumbering beauty that is the human climax.
EdenFantasys can’t do that for me. I can’t reach an anorgasmic community there. Even if I do, that community is really, really small. As such, I hope to reach that neglected community here, with Miss Climax. I want my reviews, ramblings, writings, notes, experiences to be read by those who haven’t ever had an orgasm, by those who struggle to cum. I want to give that community the hope that they deserve, that they, too, can one day writhe in pleasure. Most importantly, I want the anorgasmic community to not give up.
And so here I am. You can call me iovys or Miss Climax. The pun, this time, is intended, because with me, reaching orgasm is oftentimes a hit or miss. Sometimes, I can’t cum for days, and then I truly miss climaxing. Sometimes, I can climax several times in one session – and then I truly feel like Miss Climax, in which I dominate the field. So yeah. That’s my story. That’s why this blog exists.