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| Blogs > PacificEros > BeyondConfession |
Laughing orgasms: Next to crying orgasms, these are the best, right?
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Laughing orgasms: Next to crying orgasms, these are the best, right? If I could have any orgasm to live over again, at the top of my list would be the orgasms that have left me in tears: the orgasms that shatter me like Ella Fitzgerald hitting the right notes to shatter a crystal glass, reducing me to a broken goblet, flooded with joy tears...and left amazed and humbled at the power of romance and love and the magic and mystery of sex. But next to crying orgasms, I say: Give me laughing orgasms, the orgasms that reduce you almost to tears of laughter Here my two favorite laughing orgasm stories. I was married for 21 years, the last 8 almost entirely sexless. Soon after my wife asked for a divorce, I began an intense 4 month long correspondence with a Dallas woman. We hook up finally in Las Vegas, on the 16 floor of the Flamingo Hotel, overlooking the Bellagio fountains. Within a minute of entering the hotel room, we are on the bed, kissing, necking, hugging, caressing. The erotic, I believe, depends on delay, so I try to take my time, making patience a vice. We are in the mood to strip off our clothes immediately, but we take 30 minutes before any item of clothing comes off...and almost 60 minutes before we are naked. I kiss her everywhere, and then everywhere again, eventually going back down on her I go down on her. She's moaning, almost panting. She pulls me up for air. I'm ready to fuck. But then she asks me to masturbate for her. I comply. I begin slowly, teasing her with my light strokes to my large, thick, natural<b> cock. </font></b>I'm a teacher, and inevitably I begin teaching. It's an x-rated show-and-tell, with no telling, just a lab demonstration. She's fascinated with my natural, uncut cock, and she's bright--an A student. I show her how I love to be taken. Do unto me as I'm doing unto myself. The sermon arouses her. She spreads wide, arches her back, and she begins playing with herself, honeying herself up. She unfolds herself to me, and becomes petal-open, with her clit a pulsing rose bud. I play myself legato, then fortissimo, then back to legato, doing the slip-and-slide. We slide into the same groove, the same rhythm, taking ourselves to the verge, our eyes laser-beamed together. I grasp my<b> cock </font></b>at the base, making its head bulge into a purple plum, and its skin smooth out, almost the same texture as wetted lips in a wide smile. She talks wantonly to me, begging me to shoot all over her, urging me to outdo the spurting of the Bellagio fountains. With 8 years of lust stored up, her words drive me crazy. My<b> cock </font></b>is a stiff, strong arrow, and I take my aim at different places: bosoms, belly, face, mouth. She fingers herself to the peak, and I get myself ready to come. I haven't felt so cockstrong in ages. But then she stops, grabs my<b> cock </font></b>from me, and jacks me off for the last stroke, cupping my come in her hands. She starts massaging my<b> cock </font></b>in my own juices, prolonging the pleasure, tickling the hell out of me. It's agony and ecstasy. It reduces manly me to a whimpering fool. I try to squirm my<b> cock </font></b>away from her, but she will not give me my freedom. She has my<b> cock </font></b>in the palm of my hand. We start giggling together, then laughing uncontrollably. She has me at her mercy, caught hook, line, and sinker. The laughter emerges from joy, a release of tension, a bliss, a camaraderie, and the irony of her reducing me to abject pleasure. Two nights later, as the sun rises for our last morning together, we're still fucking. She begs me to come over her. I'm feeling so powerful, so studly. She gave me my first anal sex, my first deep throat, my first experience with a woman squirting, and I'd never fucked more frequently and intensely in my life. I wanted to come so big for her, proving my passion to her. I pull out, stroke myself before her eyes. But then when I come, it's a complete fizzle...barely a drop comes out. The well had gone bone dry. She'd milked me all out. The dribblette of cum reduces us again into uncontrollable laughter. |
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2/16/2010 7:37 pm |
In those sorts of orgasms, something within you is being healed.
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In those sorts of orgasms, something within you is being healed. Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety. Other women cloy The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies. For vilest things Become themselves in her, that the holy priests Bless her when she is riggish. ~~ from Antony & Cleopatra
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