"An electrifying sensation surged through me and there it was, my first orgasm"

Self-pleasure was the best self-care I indulged in

Those who know me well would agree, if there were an award for saying the most unhinged things, I’d confidently strut over the shattered egos of many highly competent people to claim it. My filter’s existence, especially around those I love, is questionable, much like my dark sense of humour, which tends to arrive with impeccable inappropriateness. Naturally, you might assume I’ve always been someone who speaks openly about sex and orgasms.

But nothing could be further from the truth.

I’ve always been close to my family—my mom, my sister, and I have spent countless hours sharing thoughts and tea, swapping gossip like currency. And yet, despite that closeness, sex was never a topic on the table. Generationally, sexual pleasure was not considered appropriate conversation in my family and no, it was not a rule pinned to the fridge but an unspoken understanding. My older sister also never spoke about it, so naturally, I grew up believing conversations about sex are not to be had. Sure, I got the period talk. But that’s biology, not desire. My mom still can’t say the word “vagina” out loud and uses a rotating list of euphemisms when referring to anything “down there.”

My friends and I, like most teens, chatted about crushes, first kisses, and whose boyfriend had the best tushie but not about sex itself. And my circle of friends was as naive as me.

I started dating at 18 and became sexually active then too—but until the age of 25, two years ago, I had still never orgasmed. Two reasons: I’d get too awkward when things got intimate, and truthfully, I didn’t know my own body well enough to guide anyone else.

Even the idea of addressing sex used to make me deeply uncomfortable, let alone discussing my dissatisfaction with it. Looking back now, I want to roll my eyes at my younger self. If only I could go back and whisper, everything you think about sex is going to change.

The sisterhood of sexual freedom

Things changed for me when I met a group of confident, hilariously unfiltered women at work in my 20s. They were just as wild as me, but there was one key difference—they spoke about sex as if it were the most normal, empowering thing in the world. We became close, and slowly, their openness began to rub off on me. I started listening, learning, and unlearning.

My friends had already entered the world of sex toys, candidly sharing reviews and tips like seasoned experts. I, on the other hand, had never even touched myself. When I told them that, they were surprised but didn’t tease me or make me uncomfortable. Instead, they encouraged me to try it and normalised it for me. It was this safe, non-judgmental space of sisterhood that helped me feel comfortable exploring at my own pace. I circled the idea for a while, frequently and dedicatedly checking out sex toys online, like it was my side hustle. Until one friend just handed me a vibrator. The MsChief Solo Bunny Air Pulse Massager. A gentle-looking gadget, designed for suction, unanimously approved by our self-declared Board of Directors.

Everyone spoke of orgasms as a divine right and something every woman deserves. And with no man in sight and a growing curiosity, I finally decided to give it a try. But I was nervous. What if I couldn’t orgasm? What if I didn’t even know how to try? I was afraid of feeling inadequate. I was losing my orgasm virginity, and I wanted it to be special.

My first orgasm

It was a Friday night, and my new vibrator was calling out to me from my bedside table drawer. I had not made any plans that night. I set the scene as if I were preparing for a date except this time, the date was with myself. I slipped into a pretty dress, sexy underwear, turned on the AC, put on my favourite perfume, and lay down (here’s how you can feel sexier too after a sweaty day). My friends had shared some basic instructions: hold the suction head on the clitoris and try to clear your mind.

So I shelved all thoughts of cleaning my cat’s litter tray or the dozens of items in my online cart. It was just me, my vibrator, and a growing sense of curiosity.

What I loved about this toy was how unthreatening it looked. Unlike the hyper-realistic, penis-shaped gadgets I had seen online, vibrating like they were trying to shake a building. This one was soft, subtle, beginner-friendly—and clearly not to be underestimated, as I soon discovered.

I let my imagination wander recalling past moments of desire and weaving fantasies. Soon, a strong, electrifying sensation surged through me starting in my pelvis and rising straight to my head. I arched my back like I was being jumpstarted. That was it. My first orgasm. It took me barely seven to eight minutes to get there, but it felt like a burst of adrenaline had been pumped into me and life in that moment was at its peak of perfection. And it felt more restorative than my entire 5-step skincare routine.

I wanted to go—and come—again and again. And lo! My tiny suction device delivered not one, but multiple orgasms.

I lay there, breathless, dazed, and overwhelmed with joy. For the first time, I truly felt connected to my body.

The ripple effect

As a single woman, I started scheduling self-pleasure sessions like couples schedule date nights. I carved out time on weekends to explore my desires, understand my fantasies, and give myself what I deserved. I had found a new kind of confidence, one that didn’t depend on anyone else. Ironically, it’s what gave me the courage to sign up to a dating app.

By the time I finally started seeing someone, I had changed radically. I didn’t freeze in bed. I communicated what I liked. And as a result, I had really good orgasms courtesy of another person for the first time.

The relationship didn’t last, and yes, I was a little sad. But I felt empowered, knowing that my pleasure was no longer dependent on anybody else. A man could come and go, or worse, have no clue what he’s doing, but I had unlocked something within myself.

My first vibrator still holds a special place in my heart (and drawer), but I’ve since added a few more. Leezu’s Pyaari and MyMuse’s Pop-wand are now part of the rotation, both discreet and effective.

My friends celebrated my first orgasm like it was a long-overdue promotion and honestly, it was. I no longer feel prudish or awkward when the topic comes up. And guess what? I have become the torchbearer of normalising conversations around sex at home. One day, my mom found my sex toy and I, in a moment of sheer bravery, told her what it was. Surprisingly, she laughed and since then, we’ve been casually joking about it. In the past few months, I have even teased her by telling her to get one for herself. Turns out mom and I were in the same boat all along, tied by the unspoken shame and awkwardness around all things sex. But I am loving this new level of comfort between us that these conversations have unlocked.

While I’m not going to share this story with every person I meet, I now talk about sex with confidence, and that’s the real win for me.

As told to Akanksha Narang