A dozen women, my then-partner among them, shooting arcs of liquid into the air from their genitals for the very first time, in unison. What had begun 90 minutes earlier as a fairly granular anatomy lesson in a Brooklyn townhouse had seamlessly morphed into something resembling the fountain show at the Bellagio. Up until this moment, I harbored serious doubts that the well-muscled man wearing colorful briefs and the hairstyle of a Lenape warrior could guide this diverse group of women and their partners to opening the floodgates for the first time, much less at the same time. Indeed, I showed up feeling fairly certain that there were people who could squirt and people who could not squirt and that it broke down in a ratio similar to those who are right- and left-handed.
Where does it comes from? Is it pee? And how might I make it happen for me? The first time Gilly, 41, squirted, it left her on a high.
Many experts still question whether female ejaculation even exists —in the year we still haven't yet sorted out female sexual physiology. Anything to do with female sexuality has been, and continues to be, taboo in the strongest sense of the word. This is what fuels my work as a sex therapist turned neuroscientist —and exactly what I explore in my Glamour column, Ask. Nan , and in my new book, Why Good Sex Matters. The truth is we probably know just as much if not more about the composition of the fluids that flowed on the surface of Mars billions of years ago than we do about the nature of what is expelled by the human female during sex.