Is Orgasm Getting in the Way of Good Sex?

Sex is fucking great, right?

Well, it can be. We think about it, fantasise about it, talk about it, worry about it and, hopefully, occasionally get around to actually having it. It can be intimate, filthy, ridiculous, adventurous, comforting, intense, playful or simply something that feels really fucking good.

Yet somewhere along the way, we seem to have decided that there is one particular thing that determines whether a sexual experience has been successful: orgasm.

Or, as the nineties rather dramatically liked to call it, the Big O.

Orgasm has become so synonymous with sexual satisfaction that we often use it as a kind of sexual scorecard. Did you come? Did they come? How many times? How long did it take? If nobody orgasmed, was it even good sex?

As a Psychosexual and Relationship Therapist, I think there’s a much more useful question we could be asking: did you actually fucking enjoy it?

Because orgasms are brilliant. I’m certainly not here to start an anti-orgasm campaign. But pleasure is much bigger than orgasm, and when we become overly focused on reaching a particular sexual destination, we can miss quite a lot of the good stuff happening along the way.

First Things First: What Actually Counts as Sex?

This sounds like a ridiculously obvious question until you actually ask people to define it.

For many of us, our earliest understanding of sex was remarkably narrow: penis goes into vagina, some thrusting happens, everybody miraculously orgasms at roughly the same time and that’s sex successfully completed.

Real human sexuality is considerably more interesting.

Sex can include kissing, touching, sensual massage, masturbation, mutual masturbation, oral sex, vaginal or anal penetration, fantasy, role play, sexting, phone sex, BDSM and kink, erotic media, toys, sensory play and countless other ways of experiencing erotic pleasure.

Some people have sex with partners. Some enjoy sexuality alone. Some people’s sexual experiences involve penetration and some never do. Some people want sex frequently, some occasionally and some aren’t particularly interested in it at all.

There isn’t one correct way to have sex.

That matters because the way we define sex influences what we consider successful sex. If our definition is essentially penetration → orgasm → finished, we’ve created an incredibly narrow script for something that can encompass pleasure, intimacy, curiosity, excitement, vulnerability, silliness, sensation, connection and play.

It also leaves an awful lot of people wondering whether what they’re doing somehow doesn’t count.

Spoiler: it probably does.

The foundations are actually much simpler. Whatever you’re doing should be consensual, wanted and something the people involved feel comfortable participating in. Beyond that, there is an enormous amount of room to figure out what sex means to you.

Why Does Sex Feel So Fucking Good?

Our bodies are wonderfully complicated things.

Sexual arousal involves interactions between our brains, bodies and environment. Blood flow changes, heart rate and breathing can increase, sensitivity can change and various neurotransmitters and hormonal systems are involved in experiences of arousal, pleasure, bonding and relaxation.

But I actually think we’ve sometimes gone a bit overboard trying to justify sex by listing all the ways it’s supposedly “good for you”.

Have sex because it lowers your blood pressure! Have sex because it burns calories! Have sex because it’s good for your immune system!

Or, hear me out: have sex because you like having sex.

We don’t need to turn fucking into a wellness intervention.

Equally, nobody needs to have sex in order to be healthy. Some people want lots of sex, some want very little and some don’t want it at all. Sexual wellbeing isn’t measured by how frequently you’re getting your kit off.

What interests me much more as a therapist is our ability to actually experience pleasure when we want to.

When we’re able to pay attention to sensation rather than constantly monitoring our performance, sex can become a very different experience. Instead of wondering Am I taking too long? Are they enjoying this? Why haven’t I come yet? Am I doing this properly?, we have more opportunity to notice what’s actually happening in our bodies.

What feels good? What would I like more of? What would I like less of? Do I want something different? Do I actually want to continue?

They’re simple questions, but you’d be surprised how difficult they can be to answer when you’ve spent years learning what sex is supposed to look like rather than what you actually enjoy.

So, What the Fuck Is an Orgasm Anyway?

We all talk about them, but defining an orgasm is surprisingly complicated.

Broadly, orgasm is a psychophysiological response to sexual stimulation that can involve intense pleasurable sensation, involuntary muscular contractions, changes in heart rate and breathing and a subsequent feeling of release or relaxation.

But orgasms don’t necessarily feel the same between people, and they don’t even necessarily feel the same every time for the same person.

And here’s where some of our language gets muddled: orgasm and ejaculation aren’t the same thing.

People with penises can orgasm without ejaculating and, in some circumstances, ejaculation can occur without the subjective experience of orgasm. People with vulvas may experience the release of fluid during sexual activity, commonly referred to as squirting or female ejaculation, while many don’t.

None of these things tell us whether somebody has had “better” sex.

You’ll also hear endless discussions about clitoral orgasms, vaginal orgasms, anal orgasms, blended orgasms and every other flavour of orgasm somebody has managed to name.

Different stimulation absolutely can produce different sensations, but our sexual anatomy isn’t a collection of completely independent buttons. The clitoris, for example, is considerably larger than the little external structure most people are familiar with and extends internally around the vaginal area.

Bodies are complicated. That’s half the fun.

The important thing is figuring out what works for your body rather than trying to collect different orgasms like Pokémon.

When Orgasm Becomes Homework

There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to come.

The problem begins when orgasm stops being something you’d like to experience and becomes something you feel you have to achieve.

This is where sex can start feeling suspiciously like work.

Why haven’t I come yet? Am I taking too long? They must be getting bored. Maybe I need to concentrate harder. They’re going to think they’re shit in bed. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.

Congratulations. Sex now has KPIs.

In psychosexual therapy, we often talk about something called spectatoring. Rather than being immersed in what’s happening in your body, you begin watching and evaluating yourself from the outside.

Instead of experiencing sex, you’re essentially reviewing your own performance.

Unsurprisingly, orgasm isn’t particularly fond of performance reviews.

When we’re anxious about whether something is going to happen, our attention can move away from sensation and towards monitoring, judgement and pressure. Then, because we’re not orgasming, we often respond by trying even fucking harder.

Which creates more pressure.

Which makes it harder to stay present.

Which makes orgasm potentially even less likely.

It’s a particularly irritating little cycle.

Your Partner’s Orgasm Isn’t Your Exam Result Either

Orgasm pressure doesn’t only affect the person trying to come.

We can become equally obsessed with making somebody else orgasm.

Wanting your partner to experience pleasure is lovely. Being attentive, curious and interested in what feels good for them is part of mutually enjoyable sex.

But there is a difference between caring about somebody’s pleasure and treating their orgasm as evidence of your sexual competence.

If you need your partner to come so you can feel like you’ve done a good job, you’ve inadvertently made their orgasm about you.

They might then start feeling pressure to perform pleasure for your reassurance. Maybe they start exaggerating their responses. Maybe they fake an orgasm. Maybe they become so focused on reassuring you that you’re good in bed that they’re no longer particularly connected to what their own body is doing.

Nobody wins.

You aren’t responsible for manufacturing somebody else’s orgasm. You can participate in creating the conditions for pleasure, communicate, listen, experiment and learn what somebody enjoys.

Their body still isn’t an exam you need to pass.

But the Orgasm Gap Still Matters

There is an important caveat here because saying “orgasm isn’t everything” can very quickly become another way of dismissing people’s pleasure.

And historically, some people’s pleasure has been dismissed considerably more than others.

Research into heterosexual sexual experiences has consistently identified what has become known as the orgasm gap, with heterosexual women reporting orgasm less consistently during partnered sexual encounters than heterosexual men.

So I’m absolutely not suggesting that we respond to unequal pleasure by saying, “Oh well, orgasms don’t matter anyway.”

They can matter enormously.

The distinction is between desire and obligation.

There’s a big difference between “my pleasure matters and I’d really like to orgasm” and “if I don’t orgasm, I’ve failed at sex.”

We can care about orgasms without making them the sole measurement of whether sex was worthwhile.

Why Can’t I Orgasm?

There are a million and one reasons somebody might find orgasm difficult, and struggling to orgasm doesn’t automatically mean there’s something wrong with you.

Medication can affect orgasm, particularly some antidepressants. Physical health conditions, hormonal changes, pain, pelvic floor difficulties, neurological factors, alcohol and other substances can also influence sexual response.

Then there’s everything happening above the neck.

Stress, anxiety, body image, shame, trauma, beliefs about sex, relationship difficulties, fear of losing control, difficulty communicating, feeling disconnected from your body or simply not receiving the kind of stimulation you actually enjoy can all make orgasm more difficult.

Sometimes people also just haven’t had much opportunity to learn what their body likes.

We’re given this bizarre idea that sex should be instinctive. Put two people who fancy each other in a room and apparently everybody should automatically know which buttons to press.

Except humans don’t work like that.

You might know something feels fine without knowing what would make it feel fucking fantastic. You might have spent years prioritising somebody else’s pleasure. You might struggle to tell someone what you want. You might not actually know what you want yet.

That’s okay.

If difficulty reaching orgasm is new, persistent, painful or distressing, it’s worth talking to an appropriate healthcare professional. If anxiety, shame, sexual confidence, previous experiences or relationship dynamics seem to be playing a part, psychosexual therapy can also provide a space to explore what’s going on.

But there’s another important possibility.

Maybe you don’t orgasm particularly often and you’re genuinely not bothered by it.

In which case, you don’t need fixing.

What Happens If We Take Orgasm Off the Table?

One of the approaches traditionally used within psychosexual therapy is sensate focus, originally developed by Masters and Johnson. There are different ways therapists use and adapt it today, but one of the central principles remains incredibly useful: removing performance demands can create more space to actually experience sensation.

Instead of touching somebody with the implicit expectation that this needs to lead to something, the focus becomes curiosity.

What does this feel like? What happens if the pressure changes? What happens if we slow down? What does my body move towards? What does it move away from?

Suddenly touch doesn’t need to achieve anything.

You can enjoy warmth, pressure, texture, anticipation, connection, arousal and excitement without constantly asking where it’s going.

You can laugh. You can get distracted. You can change position. You can discover that something you thought you’d enjoy does absolutely fuck all for you. You can stop. You can try something different.

Ironically, taking orgasm off the agenda can sometimes make orgasm easier because you’ve removed some of the pressure surrounding it.

But if you do that solely because you’re secretly hoping it’ll make you orgasm, congratulations — you’ve managed to sneak the goal back in through the fucking side door.

The point is that nothing has failed if orgasm doesn’t happen.

Better Sex Doesn’t Necessarily Mean More Sex

While we’re dismantling arbitrary sexual rules, let’s deal with another one: the idea that a healthy sex life means having sex frequently.

There is no correct amount of sex.

Desire varies enormously between people and throughout our lives. Stress, work, health, medication, children, relationships, hormones, ageing and approximately a thousand other things can affect how often somebody wants sex.

Having sex three times a week that you don’t particularly want isn’t automatically healthier than having fantastic sex once every couple of months.

Instead of asking “Are we having enough sex?”, I often think the more interesting question is: “Are we having the kind of sex we actually want to be having?”

Those are two very different things.

Maybe Good Sex Is Just… Good Sex

I’m not coming for your orgasms.

Orgasms are fucking lovely. Chase them. Enjoy them. Have several if your body fancies it.

Just don’t mistake them for the only evidence that something worthwhile happened.

Sex can be intimate without orgasm. It can be intensely pleasurable without penetration. It can be meaningful without being romantic and playful without being meaningful. It can be exploratory, kinky, tender, filthy, funny, awkward or occasionally just a bit mediocre because human beings aren’t sexual machines and sometimes that’s how it goes.

Perhaps instead of asking whether everybody crossed an imaginary finish line, we could start paying attention to everything else.

Did it feel good? Did I feel present? Did I feel able to communicate? Could I ask for what I wanted — and say when I didn’t want something? Did I feel connected to my body? Was there pleasure? Was there curiosity? Would I like to do it again?

Those answers tell me far more about someone’s sexual wellbeing than whether they came.

Because ultimately, orgasm can be part of really fucking good sex.

It just doesn’t have to be the point of it.

Want to talk about it?

If sex has started to feel more like something you need to get right than something you actually get to enjoy, you don’t have to figure it out alone.

As a Psychosexual and Relationship Therapist, I work with individuals and couples around orgasm difficulties, sexual confidence, desire, pleasure, kink, relationships and all the wonderfully complicated stuff that comes with being a sexual human.

No judgement. No arbitrary definition of what your sex life should look like. And definitely no orgasm KPIs.

Curious? Book a free 20 minute introductory call and let’s see if working together feels like a good fit.