Orgasmic Hallucinations

When it comes to the New Age aspects of sexuality – sex magick, tantra, etc – I’ll be the first to admit that this topic doesn’t particularly move me in any way. Maybe because I’m sort of atheist… or maybe because I like to make my own rules when it comes to sexuality. But, quite honestly, I’m not impressed by a tantric lover, nor do I like the idea that I have to concentrate during sex.

Does that sound lame? Fine.

However, after my last orgasm, I might have to reconsider my thoughts.

I just got over an ambiguous type of flu/cold that left my throat in an infectious limbo. My energy was at its lowest, and all I wanted to do was masturbate, watch Intervention, and sleep.

So I did.

For the first time in a few days, I resisted the urge to take my medication. Call me crazy, but being sedated and on antibiotics for too many days at a time frightens me. I like to know that (unless my body is absolutely dire and severe conditions) my immune system, and all other systems, don’t have to rely too heavily on prescriptive medication. So, I spent much of that drug-free day dancing between a fully recovered being to a voice still raspy and a nose still drippy, like a ruined little town after a hurricane. Regardless, I went to bed feeling completely sober and ambitious. I forgot what motivated me, other than the fact that there was nothing else to do, to masturbate. But, I pulled out my vibrator and dove right into it with great zest.

At first, I thought it was going to be a five minute encounter with my pussy, a worthy orgasm, then a coma-like sleep. I was looking forward to this scenario, actually. Having an orgasm relaxes me so much, I feel as though I’m in my mother’s stomach, a fetal organism so blessed and comfortable and oblivious. The next morning, I’m struck by brief confusion as to why my pussy’s still wet and my little vibrator’s shoved down my pants.

But, as each minute passed, my clitoris stubbornly peeked in and out or her prepuce. I had to slide my two fingers on either side and push her out. Then, my vibrator just focused all of its little vibrations onto my hot little button.

For a moment, I grew impatient. Flipping through the rolodex of fantasies in my mind, not one was inspiring enough to drive me to come. My mind erased the images completely, and replaced them with those carnal pictures of penetration, of touch – pictures that were only saved for manual stimulation.

My motto: I’ll always want to go Disneyland, but the journey there is better. That was how I felt about masturbation. Each time my hands wandered to my clitoris, I experienced something new and rich. Other times, not so much. But, that’s life.

My hair was frothy wet with sweat. The once faintly lit lamp now seemed too stark and hot to take. I switched it off and rode my vibrator, thrusting my pelvis up and down and back and forth. I squealed like a pig, like a little baby being teased. I had to stop… then start again… I paused… then another go. My clitoris was excited throughout. She swiftly danced in her spot, too juicy and delicate to take any more vibrations. I was persistent; I enjoyed the chase.

As I edged towards a whitening orgasm, I closed my eyes and went into meditation. Even the pictures of lust I watched before had faded completely; I was too tired to think anymore. What remained was the blackness of my subconscious, steadily turning green.

I remember in my books about Wicca and meditation that one can meditate and find themselves in a “green” world. Suddenly, the universe is a pale, earthy green. Faces come to me from the abyss. I suddenly smell wood and dirt. I’ve experienced this meditation many times in my life, which I attribute to my obliviousness and common daydreaming when I shouldn’t be (if that makes sense).

A consistent rule presents itself here, and (I find) in the basics of sex magick and that is this: You must focus on only one particular thing. And, usually, that thing is nothing. It isn’t an object (Object defined by how we perceive ourselves and the touchable matter around us) or a sound. It’s only sensation. It’s to experience a chill up your back as only an experience, not as a thing or as an object. Nothing needs analysis. No questions need to be asked.

Such, again, is the case of “green” meditation (Not totally similar but not completely unlike how green meditation is described here). And such was the case that night. I immediately fell into my “green” world. But it wasn’t green at all. It was black. Well, maybe a blackish green. The kind of black that’s faded after too many washes. The universe itself wasn’t black, but the endless crowds of dancing demons were, demons that hopped up and down, performed somersaults and jumping jacks. Demons that were infinite and coming toward me. They never touched me, nor did I feel like I was being harmed. As my climax came nearer to my body, the demons grew very excited. And, when I opened my eyes, they didn’t leave my sight.

I could still see my room, my walls, my ceiling. But, a veil of demons dancing like J-Lo showered down from the ceiling. They came through the walls. I wondered if the room itself was actually an illusion. Then, I orgasmed.

The demons exploded, their blackness melting from my sight. I saw the sprinkle of lights splashed on my ceiling. They came from outside. They danced seductively, as if darkness was a motionless ocean. Only the lights hinted at some movement. As I was fixated on the lights moving through the shadows, I felt my perception narrow deeply to a place that left me catatonic, unable to move or function. The walls brightened up like light bulbs, as did the floor.

I felt myself swimming up further and further. Then, I finally hit the surface.

I returned to the room feeling a little bit more scared. I don’t know where I went or what I experienced. But, I can tell you that I slept peacefully that night. As I had hoped.

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