There are any number of sex writers who’ll tell you how to achieve the ultimate, mind-blowing, amazing orgasm. Unfortunately, the way your body works may not be the same as the way mine works, so I can’t promise you stars and explosions and earth moving unless you happen to be formed in exactly the same way I am.
What I can do though is tell you that the other day I had the Best Orgasm I Have Ever Had, along with some lurid and sticky detail.
Two hours of fucking the day before. Fucking till I’m sore and tired. Fucking while he tells me I’m a good girl and acts like each stroke is a punishment. Fucking like it’s a challenge:
“You want this? Harder? You can take it harder.”
And I do.
And I grind against him and dig my hands into his thighs and pull him deeper, tighter, harder into me. Each stroke comes with a smack as he shoves himself against me. He puts his hands around my throat for grip and pulls himself further into me.
Every stroke hurts in a good way, like he’s stuffing as much of himself inside me as possible. He calls me greedy, and he refers to it as ‘that’ – objectifiying and distracting and so fucking hot.
“Take that cock.”
Not ‘my’ – ‘that.’ Nothing is personal. Everything is physical.
Neither of us comes. We don’t come because we’re both a bit intoxicated, and tired. And perhaps because we’ve gone past the point at which we can come, because we’ve fucked so hard we’re raw, and each stroke is painful as well as pleasurable.
When we break – because it’s a break not a finish – we’re both drenched in sweat. My tits are slick and his face is dripping. I lick droplets from his forehead and squeeze my cunt and he groans.
But no more.
Later – hours? Maybe the next day. We haven’t slept so we don’t know how to count it. But later, anyway, I watch him touch his dick. This is a vital step, and it’s one that’s so often missed because I get too eager too quickly. I love watching guys touch their dicks – the fact that I’m getting an insight into what they like as well as, especially in this case, the hint of desperation. The urgency with which he wants to come, having been frustrated earlier. He cannot keep his hands off it.
He’s so hard. His dick is fat and satisfying and rock solid in his hand. Red and aching with the fuck from the day before. We watch some porn together and each time a section makes his dick twitch he lets out a little moan in the back of his throat.
I ask if it hurts and he says yes, so I soothe it with my soaking wet cunt, and he fucks me with slow, long strokes on the sofa.
He bites his lip. He grips me hard. He starts up that aching, horny rhythm, in which each stroke feels like a challenge.
He calls me a good girl and inevitably that’s what pushes me over. It’s what turns me from someone who’s happy to fuck forever to a greedy fuck who’s desperate to come.
“Bedroom. Please. I need to.”
Trembling, he stands up, and we run. Naked and sweaty and burning with the need to let go.
I lie on the bed and spread my legs as wide as I can – feet hooked round the bars of the headboard, hands gripping my ankles. He holds his dick inside me, still for a while, so I can clench tight around him and feel every single inch of me gripping every single inch of him. Getting the perfect angle for maximum contact. Feeling the sweat dripping from his face into my open mouth and hearing him tell me what a dirty girl I am.
But I’m getting distracted. This whole thing’s a distraction, really. The foreplay, the fuck, the build-up and the urgency: all are bonus features.
The main event – the best orgasm ever – isn’t in those things, they all just enhance it. The actual sensation of release, the first wave pushing through me, comes only when I combine three very specific things:
- A wand – the Doxy – pressed tight up against my clit, rumbling deep vibrations through my whole cunt and round his prick.
- Quick, deep, hard thrusts – that punishment fucking again – pushing the vibrations further through and into me.
- The act of squeezing against him tightly, using the pulsing throbs of my own orgasm to crush his dick inside me.
- That very specific groan, when my twitching cunt grips him in just the right way, and he can’t help but let out a strangled, desperate noise. To cover for his lack of control, he turns it into a phrase: “good girl. Come for me. That’s it.”
To simplify even further, what I’m saying is that the best orgasm ever is most easily achieved with this simple equation:
Best Orgasm = (Dick + Doxy)*Good Girl
Even then I’m wondering if there needs to be a ‘hands round throat’ in there or a well-timed, guttural moan of ‘unngh.’
This is why those ‘get the best orgasm’ articles can never, ever work. We’ve got to write our own.