As a male, I’ve always found my orgasms to be largely disappointing for the fact that they are over quickly and are pretty much just a one-off.
Biologically, it makes sense, given that the purpose of sex is reproduction, and that all the pleasures involved exist to ensure animals actually bother to do it.
In the wild, engaging in sex puts you in a very vulnerable position, so the males typically needed to get in, deposit their seed, and get out so no one ended up dead.
It’s unfortunate that a lot of men are in it just for the explosion, or worse, the conquest, but it’s understandable.
I have long envied females for their ability to experience prolonged pleasure and repeated orgasms. I’ve heard men can do it as well, but I’m skeptical of what they are actually experiencing.
There have been times, when after the explosion, I have, for lack of a better description, lightly convulsed in smaller waves of sensory pleasure, but I don’t consider that to be part of the orgasm.
Because of the general disappointment of even the best ones, masturbating has been largely utilitarian for me; usually as a relaxation technique to sleep better.
When it came to the prospects of sex in a relationship, I never really thought too much of what she would be doing to me, but instead about what I would be doing to her, or perhaps, more importantly, for her.
Even the individual porn videos that I liked best, regardless of type, were the ones where the woman was clearly very much enjoying it, and not just faking it.
In as much as I did long to feel Jennifer wrapped around my shaft, it was something that I could wait for. The physical pleasure would be relatively mild without my mind supporting it.
It needed purpose. It needed awareness. It needed to stand on the shoulders of her mental and physical pleasure in order to reach the heights of its potential.
I needed to know that she was enjoying whatever we were doing as much as I was, because, otherwise, I might as well just be alone, jerking off.
It was early fall and a very lazy weekend. We were both laying on my bed playing games on our phones. We were well into that stage where it didn’t matter what we were individually doing, just as long as we were together.
As usual, she was on my side of the bed, but had her legs crossed and resting on my pillow. She wore sweatpants with a snug, cotton tank top.
I was laying a bit lower down the bed than one normally would. I wore a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts that had never once seen the inside of a gym.
I think that on a subconscious level, we were wanting our heads to be as near each other as we could, while still being in the opposite positions. We were both on our backs with our biceps aligned.
I had apparently been engrossed in my game enough that, even out of my periphery, I did not notice that she had put her phone down.
What broke my concentration was the sound of a short, high moan, so I moved my arms enough to be able to see her face, to find out what was the matter.
She was looking at me with eyes that drifted in and out of focus. Her right arm was straight down, I could see its muscles in constant movement.
I realized that there was something wonderful happening beyond the top of my head, but I did not move to confirm my suspicions.
Instead, I just watched her face.
She tried to keep her focus on my eyes, but it was a futile objective.
It was a beautiful display of rolling eyes, fluttering lids, lips either parting or being delicately chewed, but her eyes always returned to mine in between.
I mindlessly set my phone aside, and she shifted her free arm over mine allowing keçiören escort our fingers to entwine.
Almost immediately, her intensity increased. I could feel her hips moving.
There was an orchestra of breaths and moans and little whines serving as a perfect soundtrack to her ever-changing expressions.
She pulled my hand to bite the knuckle of my middle finger, not quite hard enough to hurt.
She squeezed my fingers tighter as her breathing hastened further, gasping for air after moans, and her hips bobbed.
A single, shuddering exhalation carried a small yelp. She inhaled sharply then let out a prolonged moan that vibrated throughout my hand before she released her bite.
When everything inside her calmed, she looked into my eyes, and I almost wanted to cry. I don’t know what could have been a greater gift.
She released my hand and reached across me, wrapping her fingers around the back of my head, and guided me to sit up with my face hovering over hers.
Her fingers on the back of my jaw, her thumb traced my lower lip once before gently tugging it downward. My mouth opened slightly.
Her eyes moved between mine and my mouth. Her own lips indicated apprehension. She wanted to kiss me, but it wasn’t time.
A calm spread on her face, and then her other hand appeared.
Her wet fingers traced my lips once and then entered. The second her fingertip hit my tongue, I closed my mouth, gladly accepting her sweet offering. It was divine to me.
In that moment, she was a goddess who had just bestowed upon me her highest blessing.
She slowly withdrew her fingers, ensuring that I could retain as much of her as I could, and then her hand hovered off to the side.
There was no thought. My eyes closed, my head lowered, and my lips were pressing against hers for the first time.
We regretted nothing, but still we kissed as if we were making up for lost time. Every kind of kiss we’d ever seen or heard described, and maybe some that were new, we gave to each other.
Passion eventually turned to play, and for an hour all we cared about were lips, cheeks, eyelids, noses, chins, ears and foreheads, but then we began to sense passion’s return.
She held my head few inches from hers and said, “We should probably drink some water,” and she was right. I noticed that I was rather thirsty.
“Yeah,” I said, “Climb on,” I told her, then turned to let her wrap her arms and legs around me from behind. I stood up off the bed and carried her into the kitchen to refresh ourselves with a shared bottle of water.
She kissed my cheek from over my shoulder while I took a few swallows, and then hopped down to take some of her own.
I turned to face her and kissed her neck as she drank. Gripping her hips, I guided her to the fridge and put her back against it.
When she had as much water as she wanted, she screwed on the cap and returned to kissing, clumsily setting the bottle on the countertop nearby.
I moved my body closer, pressing into hers. I savored the roundness of her breasts against me. I slipped one of my legs between hers, applying pressure to both of our groins with each other’s thigh.
I cupped her buttocks, massaging and squeezing, noticing that I felt no indication of panties.
I moved a hand up her back, feeling a bra clasp. I had to change that.
Still kissing, I pulled us away from the fridge, turned us around, and I guided her to the edge of the sink.
I slowed my kisses as I moved them down the side of her neck. As I reached her clavicle, I pulled the shoulder strap of her tank top off of her shoulder.
I kissed along kızılay escort her collarbone until I came to her bra strap, and then bit it between my teeth.
As I pulled the strap upward to make it taunt, I reached for the serrated pairing knife in the knife block.
Unable to see what I was doing, she let out a gasp at the sudden release of the tension after the thin strap was cut in a single motion.
I kissed my way over to the other side, pulled the tank top’s shoulder off, and clench the other bra strap between my teeth.
I pulled my head back as far as I could, holding that position while looking her in the eyes. I calmly passed the knife between us, partly for caution, but also to give her a clear, deliberate view of my actions.
I sliced through the strap, waited a second, and then released it from my teeth.
I moved in for another kiss, setting the knife on the counter, and then ran the fingers of my right hand up her back, beneath her tank top and pinched the clasp of her bra.
I paused, parted from her lips and pressed my forehead against hers. I closed my eyes and listened to her breathing. Even through her back, I could feel her heart pounding.
I let one end release suddenly, inciting a tiny jump as she sucked in a breath, and then pulled the other end downward and frontward.
She gasped as the top edge of the cups brushed against her erect nipples.
Giving her one kiss, I dropped the now useless garment on the floor and returned my hands to her hips.
My spread fingers moved around to her buttocks and back.
Another kiss on her lips.
I grasp the material of her sweatpants and pulled slowly downward about an inch, rubbed my fists against her hips, then pulled down another inch.
I released the material and tucked my fingertips into the back of the waistband of her sweatpants.
I could hear a shudder in her breath when she inhaled deeply as my fingers glided over the warm, bare flesh.
I grazed the line of between her cheeks, and she let out a quick whine.
Gripping and massaging, I pulled her with me, then lifted. She wrapped her legs around my waist, holding my shoulder with one hand, and the back of my head with the other.
I walked us around the edge of the couch into the dark living room. My body gave the subtle clues that signaled her to stand again on her bare feet.
I slid my hands back out and turned her around. Her left hand went up and back to find the back of my head. Her right hand was lost for destination.
My own left hand rested on her hip, while the other teased her stomach, circled her naval, then pushed her waistband down just a little bit more.
I bent my knees and lowered myself enough to nestle the bulge of my erection into the crack of her ass, to which she responded with a very tantalizing gasp.
I held my palm firmly against the expanse beneath her belly, crossed my left hand over to wrap her ribs, nestled my face snugly into her neck, and then fell backwards onto the couch.
She made a sweet surprised sound.
Laying at an angle, our legs bent over the edge; our left legs a bit straighter than the right.
I shifted her torso left enough to get my head on the other side of hers, but the main purpose was to cause her body to arch back, raising her hips.
I switched hands, sliding my left into her sweatpants, and my right over her stomach, then underneath her shirt.
The small lamp over the kitchen sink did not cast enough light for either of us to see our bodies. We were both effectively blind, so I closed my eyes and relied solely on my sense of touch.
I followed the edge of her kocatepe escort ribcage up to her sternum. The very tips of my middle and ring finger grazed where ribcage became breast.
Around, until my thumb and forefinger cradled that connection. Further around. Her left arm was up, so I continued.
My palm flat against her, it glided closer to her armpit. I teased around the side edge with my fingertip. Then slightly closer. Slightly closer again, until her body twitched, and then I backed off, retracing my path, returning to her abdomen.
My left hand moved back up to rest against the underside of her left breast, and my right hand creeped downward, occasionally pausing to curl and uncurl my fingers, causing their tips to graze her skin.
Soon I felt the softness of her trimmed hair. Further in, I took a moment to relish in the feel of it before continuing down to her right thigh.
I stroked it twice before cupping the inside and pulling her leg just a bit wider. My fingers were wrapped almost around the back of her thigh as I slid towards her center.
I massaged my way to the crease of her leg, very careful to not yet touch her mound.
Though her thigh was already hot, I could still feel the greater heat radiating against the edge of my finger.
I moved my head slightly to rest my lips against the shell of her ear and whispered .
“Do you want me to touch you?”
She inhaled sharply immediately let out a breathy, “Yes.”
I raised my fingers off of her, then delicately ran a tip along the outer edge of her smooth, swollen labia.
She shuddered and I broke contact.
The thumb and forefinger of my left hand eased up the rise of her breast, and I gently rubbed for just a moment.
Slightly closer to her opening, I grazed her labia again.
“Oh god,” she shuddered, quietly.
My left hand moved further up her breast and massaged.
I grazed the rim of her parted labia and shot went through her, followed by a small whine.
My other fingertip found the edge of her areola. One stroke. The side of my finger found the underside of her stiffened nipple. One stroke.
One stroke across the very tip, and she made a tiny, beautiful noise.
I moved my right fingertip, in a slowly repeating arch, around her clitoral hood, but only barely touching it.
Rolled her nipple twice and pulled gently.
Grazed down the edge of her labia once, then returned to the repeating arch, slightly increasing the speed.
She occasionally emitted small, tortured moans.
“Do you want me to rub your clit?” I whispered.
“Yes,” she replied with a hint of desperation in her voice.
“I want you to-” I didn’t let her finish the sentence. My fingers suddenly moved back and forth over her clit with a furious speed, each down stroke dipping into slippery fluid to be carried back.
She sucked in a hard breath then let it out again. She sporadically writhed and bucked in my embrace. Her right hand clenched the back of my head, pressing it to hers.
Soon she was taking desperate breathes between prolonged moans.
Her whole body froze and then shuddered intensely. Her right hand swiftly flew to mine, stopping it, holding it firmly cupping her.
I felt her pelvis push into me, trying to come out of the arched position, so I quickly rolled us to the left to lay us on our sides, and I held her close.
Her right hand moved mine at a much slower speed, and I let her do whatever she needed with it. Slower.
She stopped and curled her body in a little, just holding my hand in place, breathing heavily.
After a short while, she started to turn further over to the left. I withdrew both hands from her clothes to let her lay on top of me.
She held my face and kissed me in a way she never had previously. It was a slowness and depth and warmth that melted us together.
I then knew that we belonged to each other, wholly and absolutely.