The Magic (And the Science) of an Orgasm… Pt. I

Finally, an article that can legitimize my orgasmic hallucinations.

This article, and another by PsychToday, were sent to me by a listener of last week’s podcast. Betty, Carlin, and I were gushing over hetero partnersex and how cock hungry we can become. And, one way or another, I told them that I never really orgasmed with other lovers before. Not even with women!

For the past two or three weeks I have been dying to masturbate. For good reason too! I had the yeasties, which encouraged me to touch myself as much as I could (To serve the itching, not to service my sexual pleasure). This made me frustrated, as well as the need to “fuck”. I get really physical now and then since writing doesn’t need to. I don’t like gyms. I don’t like the pretentious yoga studio down the street. Sex, please?

May I add that before my yeasties, I had masturbated once or twice a day for the past couple of weeks (I work from home).

On top of my frustration and high libido, I also have my book deadlines, an upcoming panel I have to write a speech (or something) for, two shoots in the next few weeks, two separate blogs to maintain, a website and a new short story to promote (plug), and I hadn’t done laundry yet. Needless to say I was pretty stressed. Luckily, the infection finally cleared. I was all set to launch… sexually speaking.

My experience was similar to that described in the Hallucinations post. The fantasies I usually evoke fell apart once I began to imagine the scenarios. Again, I had hoped that it would help me go to bed early…

Two or three hours later, my bedsheets are moist with sweat and the air embittered by my insatiable perfume, one that emanated from my overworked pussy. Instead of one large orgasm, I experienced several small ones. During this time, my mind was tingling, as if someone had poured sparkling water into its folds. With me weren’t the demons I had summoned… just the one. He seemed to burn away all of the images in my mind, old useless tired pornos that I had abused for months, some for years. It was his turn. He took my wet hair and pulled it back. Lapping up the drops of sweat that had crawled down my cheek, his tongue had grazed my ear. His hands were cold, as was his tongue, and it made me shiver. In the dark, alone, I begged him to stop for more. And riding upon the wave of my next painful pleasurable orgasm, I screamed, cursing thanking him.

I don’t remember how many orgasms I had; but, sometime after sunrise, he finally left me alone to sleep…

…Oh, um, so what was my point? Lemme read what I’ve written thus far. Oh! Yes… okay so now you must understand why orgasms are tough for me to experience with others. I will share my body with whomever is (un)worthy of it, but I dare not share my demons. They provide me with too much pleasure. And they’re mine! And this orgasm we speak of, that we so readily attach to sex (like I need penetration to experience one), is not the emblem of sexual pleasure. As the article conveys, our orgasm is born out of the secret currents of our soul.

That’s why we’re better than men.

To Be Continued…

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