Coming back

I've been away for a long time. From this blog, but also from myself. I've been trying to balance the person I'm becoming with the person I was, with the person I want to be. And that's been hard.

But this morning, I feel like my old self again.

I remembered what it was like to wake up in the morning next to someone, memories of the night before still fresh in your mind. I remembered what it felt like to feel insatiable - that writhing, grasping, gasping mixture of pain and pleasure and desire and sweat all mixing to produce such a potent and poignant high that you can't focus on anything but the hands and mouth and skin roaming freely over your body.

And the fingers intertwined in dark hair, pulling my head back to bring exposed teeth to bite down on my neck, harder, harder, dear god please harder. And the growling, scratching, pulling as my hips move of their own accord toward what they clearly want and need fuck me please fuck I need you.

And the blue eyes staring into mine staring back - hungry, starving, for the escape of release. Or the open hand, brought to my neck and up towards my chin, just enough pressure to leave me gasping and dripping. And then back to a mouth on mine, biting, pulling at my lip, then slowly moving down past my collarbone, following my breath to my breasts, as a hand moves down to my hips, still pulsing methodically. So then the tongue follows and I have nothing left to fight with as the world closes in around me and we are all that exists. Until I finally can't take it anymore and you look up at me, smirking and content, and my head is spinning and my breath has left my body and all I can feel is you.

Or the sounds made as my hips move, circular, forward and back, up and down, my breathing in time, your sighs and moans and hands and body underneath me getting me higher and harder. The fingers pinching, scratching, taking a handful of my breast as another set finds its way to my pelvis, and my motions become more urgent. And then the hand on my face, pulling me down to your face as you whisper "bite me. scratch me. harder!" and then my hips move faster as our breathing gets harder and your hands on my hips gripping tighter until we finally collapse, exhausted and glistening and panting and very, very happy.

"Holy shit. We've gotten much better at that," I say.

Toybox: The Divine Vibe

Sometimes, you just want something simple. Sometimes, all the bells and whistles and buzzing patterns and multiple heads and all that jazz are a little too much. Sometimes, you just want something that will get the job done. That will do the job well, and consistently, and perform exactly as you expect it to.

So sometimes, I absolutely crave my Divine vibe. The folks over at Babeland sent me one of the Doc Johnson toys (in black, no less!), I was stoked to try it out.


The Divine is made of ABS plastic, and as such is HARD. It takes three AAAs (which, I'll admit, I had to go out and buy), and has three settings, switched by the press of the only button on the toy, about halfway up the bulbous base. The settings are simple: low, medium, and high. No frills here.

But again, sometimes that's what you need.

The vibrations are consistent, and while not weapons-grade, to borrow a phrase, they escalate nicely from one setting to the next. They do have to be buzzed through sequentially, though, which is sometimes annoying... If you have it set on medium, for example, and want to turn it off from there, you'll have to go to high, then off. Likewise, you have to cycle through "off" each time. Which, again, can be annoying.

But the best part of the Divine vibe? Its shape is PERFECT. At least for my body, the curve of the toy fits my cunt like it was made for it. And I love the way it feels in my hand - the notches line up great with my fingers, and the curvature means I can have vibrations on my clit, all the way down. Which is AWESOME. And, the way the Divine feels in my hands isn't entirely unlike a cock - so there's some easy fantasizing there... Either about having someone else's cock so close to me, or, yeah, having my own.

The Divine vibe has become my go-to sex toy. It's not especially intimidating, and can (and has) work easily into play with a partner. Or it's awesome solo, obviously. It isn't complicated, but it IS reliable. It will get me off, every time.

And sometimes, that's exactly what you want.

Rating: 5 stars. I love this toy.

Want your own Divine vibe? You can get one at Babeland, the super-awesome, sex-positive, body- and women-friendly sex store online and in New York and Seattle.

What I need...

What I need right now is to hear your car pulling to a stop outside my house.

What I need is to hear the door slam as I race out the side door, across the yard and into your arms. I need to feel the wind across my skin and your arms at my waist as you pick me up, spinning me around, literally sweeping me off my feet.

What I need is to smell you as I press my body to yours, my face into your neck, so I can inhale you.

What I need is to take you by the hand and nearly trip over the patio step as we race in the side door to avoid distractions. I need to almost fall down the stairs and have you grab my hand to pull me back, then pin me against the wall at the landing, and with your body pressing into mine, kiss me so hard that my knees go weak and my mind is erased of everything but you. So that when you pull away, I nibble on my bottom lip and can't do anything but giggle and blush just a little. I need to fumble our way down the last of the stairs, and still be locked in a kiss with you as we find our way into my bedroom. 

I need you to slam the door shut behind you, never taking your hands off me. I need you to pin me against that door with your body again, your hands at my hips, lifting up my shirt. I need to feel that electric charge when your hands touch my skin. I need to feel those butterflies, that dizzy feeling I can't escape when your mouth is on mine. I need to feel breathless and fulfilled all at once and like I can't possibly be close enough to you.

I need to be grasping desperately at your belt, trying so hard not to be distracted by your mouth at my neck as my clumsy hands find the buckle, the button, the zipper. I need to be pushing the waist of your jeans off your slim hips as I feel your hands run up my torso, taking my tank top with them. 

I need to feel my self-consciousness slipping away as you step just an arm's length away to look at me, flushed and increasingly disheveled though I am, and smile - just the corners of your mouth, and your eyes flash that beautiful green I've been stuck imagining for entirely too long. 

I need to run my hands up your torso, bringing your shirt over your head and losing sight of it as soon as it leaves your body. I need to be tracing my fingers up and down your abdomen, around your pecs, and back to your hips, pulling you back to me.

I need to feel your warmth on my skin. I need to feel the contrast of your body, smooth and warm, against the door you still have me against, cool and unforgiving. 

I need to feel your hands at my jaw. I need to feel you pull me to you, slowly, intensely. I need to feel your kiss through my entire body. I need to feel your entire body pulse as you kiss me. I need to feel your lips on mine. I need to feel your tongue on mine. I need to feel you biting my bottom lip, pulling just the slightest on my lip ring.

I need to hear you sigh, contented and hungry, as you tighten your grip at my hips. I need to feel the momentum as you pull me away from the door and push me onto the bed. I need to shiver as your mouth traces delicate patterns down my body. I need to see you look up at me with those gorgeous eyes as you slide my jeans off my hips. I need to feel your hands up and down my legs, then your lips at my ankle, my calf, my knee, my thigh. 

I need to feel the breath, sharply inhaled into my lungs, as you bite at my hip. I need to hear you chuckle under your breath, like you know you already have me. And I need to throw my head back as your tongue starts exploring me.

I need to grasp at the sheets as your tongue finds my clit and your fingers curl themselves inside me. I need to whimper as I hear you moan into me, your tongue and fingers moving faster and in perfect discord. 

I need to see that white heat that flashes by my eyes as every muscle tenses, as I can't help but gasp out "Fuck!" when I can't feel anything but you and pleasure and love and everything. 

And, still shaking, I need to feel you kissing your way back up my stomach, my chest, my neck, until your body is back on top of mine. I need to feel your warmth and that electricity still humming between us. I need to see the smile on your face and in your eyes. I need your mouth on mine again. I need to kiss you so hard it almost hurts. 

I need to kiss you with everything I've got. I need to kiss you like it's the first time and the last time and every time inbetween. I need to pull away for just a moment, whisper out another breathless "fuck," and intertwine my fingers with yours. 

Yes, THAT'S what I need. 

Adventures in sexting

I've written before about how I'm kind of awkward trying to say anything coherent or sexy during sex. I don't do phone sex because I'm afraid of sounding like a cheesy porno. But sexting (or sex messaging)? That I can do. I posted a series of sext messages from The Scientist a month or so ago.

Well, because I'm a lucky girl, (and, who knows, maybe you all are lucky readers,) I have more super hot sext messages that I got permission to post. The Pilot sent these to me a few weeks ago. He was mentioning that he was proud of them, but didn't really know how to show them off. I, of course, willingly offered him a place to do so. He made an effort to keep each paragraph to the 160-character limit imposed by his phone, so I'll post them as such.

Which makes me think, perhaps we should start using Twitter to post erotica. Yesss... TwittErotica. Maybe this means I'll be getting a Twitter for this blog. We'll see. Not sure how many I can consecutively handle.

Anyway, without further ado, The Pilot's sext fantasy:

The sun still lights the sky from behind the mountains, casting a warm glow on your white-clad form as you cross the yard to meet me.

You're wearing the now-iconic dress and the heavy glass pendant but I'm more interested in the smiling lips and gorgeous dark eyes that are now radiant with joy.

You grab me in what must be the hardest embrace you can and whisper "I missed you" into my shoulder. "You too," I smile, pinned against the car

as I return the hug with equal intensity. "I hear there's free drinks downstairs..." I quip, and you smirkingly take the hint.

Your roommates know what's up and keep the greetings brief and in minutes I'm listening to the pavlovian click of your door being locked.

Not even a breath later, you're against the wall with my hand on your neck and my lips pressed to yours. After a long kiss, I let my hand slide down between

your perfect tits, ending with one finger on your chest. "Stay" I quietly command, and move your chair sideways. "What...?" you start to say, but I'm kissing

you again as I guide you to the chair. "Ohh." You smile coyly as you wriggle onto the arm, your hips moving suggestively to meet the wall behind you.

"I knew you'd figure it out" I say, and kneel in front of you, slowly running my hands up the insides of your legs coaxing them wider and pulling your dress

along for the ride. I narrowly miss the hot mound between them, teasing a desperate whimper out of you as I stop at your hips and dig my thumbs into the

secret buttons I know are hidden there. Gradually releasing pressure, I begin to slide back down your silky legs, this time "accidentally" hooking

my fingers into your panties. With a little cooperation on your part, they're soon sylistically complimenting the rug behind me- leaving your pussy deliciously exposed.

You're already wet, and I can feel the heat radiating from you long before my fingers touch your soft flesh. You let out a moan and hurredly fumble

with my pants. My belt thuds to the floor and we share a chuckle before lapsing back into heavy breathing. My pants and underwear join your panties,

and before I know it, your beautifully feminine hand is caressing my raging hardon. Conscious thought momentarily pauses and I find myself gripping your

neck to keep from falling over. You choke out a gasp and forget to jerk me off just long enough for me to refocus on you. I let your hot cunt go and move my

hand behind your hips, pulling them away from the wall and towards my desperately erect cock. Moving slowly closer, I move the hand at your neck down to my cock,

guiding the head to just barely touch your cunt. "Hey" I get your attention with a lustful kiss and your dark eyes lock mine as I slowly lean into you...

Inch by inch my cock disappears into your hot, lathered hole. The feeling of your muscles tightening around me makes me growl with pleasure and I have to catch

myself with your neck again. I want to stop for a moment, to savor the feeling, but your hips drive into me as your hands find their way to my taut ass,

pulling me into you. I pause for a second and you dig your nails in, forcing me deeper and making me squeeze your neck indignantly. Not that I can resist for long.

Our rhythms begin to sync; my hand behind your hips and your nails on my ass lock us together and I fall forward, biting your neck around my tightened hand.

By now we're both panting with animal lust, sweating and grinding against each other in the frantic throes of lovemaking that's been denied for months.

As the room shrinks to only you and I, I start to feel the rush of the impending explosion building at the base of my cock and my thrusts take on a new urgency.

I can tell you're as close as I am from the short, gasping breaths that you're stealing through the hand on your neck and the palpable pulsing of your cunt

muscles. It's finally too much and my whole body tenses as I shoot hot cum deep into your clenching, dripping cunt.

My hips thrust rythmically of their own accord, driving my pulsing cock as deep as it will go. I can feel you gripping me with every movement, encircling my

solid erection in slick, throbbing heat. Your own frantic motions drag a breathless "ohfuckohfuckOHFUCKFUCK...FUCK!!!" from your lips. Your back arches

and my skin burns behind your raking fingernails, proving without words that Oh yes, it WAS good for you. Our breath comes in ragged gasps and through the tingling

semi-blackout of our shared orgasm I am only dimly aware of the juices soaking both of us from the hips down. Breathing slows, muscles relax, and after a few

breaths, I slowly, languidly slide out of you, lingering with each tiny sensation of skin on cum-slicked skin. I smirk and murmur into your neck

"I think we're gonna need a towel." A euphoric "Ha!" is all you can manage before sighing deeply and slouching into my arms. "But first, let's do it again," I grin.

HNT: Hardwired

I'll let you in on a little secret: my neck is one of the most highly sensitive erogenous zones on my body. I've known it for a long time, and so have my partners - it's a pretty clear indicator when I begin melting as soon as someone starts kissing my neck. Start biting, and you'll have me whimpering.

And, as The Pilot has learned recently, the fastest way to turn me into a puddle of desire? Put your hand around my neck. And start squeezing. Because, as it turns out, my neck seems to be pretty damn well hardwired directly to my clit. It's a fun tool for things bordering on orgasm control, too... because it's such an incredibly effective way to tease me.

There might be an entry forthcoming about how The Pilot learned to use this to his advantage to an extent I've never experienced, but we'll see. That memory might be just too juicy to share.

In the meantime, though, enjoy this preview:



HHNT!

On the absence.

I apologize. Once again. For my absence of late. I can't really explain it. I just haven't felt up to blogging lately. But I HAVE been thinking a lot about sex. Yes, I know, what else is new.

The week The Pilot spent with me was particularly emotional, for both of us. We did a lot of talking, a lot of drinking, and, well, a lot of everything. All of it was needed, and I think we're in a good place now, but it was hard for me, in a lot of ways. Don't get me wrong, it was also wonderful, and loving, and sexy and a million other things, but I guess I wasn't entirely prepared for the emotionality that came with his visit. I learned quite a bit about The Pilot, but also a lot about myself. I don't know whether to say I've totally recovered from all of that yet. So I'm just going to list some of the things I've discovered as of late. I'm sorry for the lack of inspiration here, but I guess these are things I need to get out of my system before I can move forward, and hopefully get myself out of this funk in time for Pride celebrations this weekend.

I am not broken. At least, not anymore. I've written before about the fact that, beginning a few years ago, I've had a particularly difficult time climaxing with partners. It didn't seem to be something physical, as I could get myself off, but there seemed to be some kind of emotional block or something. It hasn't been as pervasive lately, but I've still wondered if I would ever regain the ability I used to have to have several orgasms in a given session.

Answer: Yes. Oh. My. Fucking. God. Yes. Perhaps one of my favorite things about The Pilot is how willing he is to indulge and experiment with me and just roll with the result. In this case, he found a few of my buttons, and learned to press them long enough and in the right ways to get me off. Five times. In a row. I'm pretty sure that's never happened before. He seemed pretty proud of himself, and I think he certainly had good reason to be. Needless to say, I was an illiterate, malleable puddle of girl by the time he was done with me. I couldn't even form a sentence, let alone any of my signature snarky, self-confident comebacks.

But, as we learned another night, there is a limit. And my being unbroken doesn't mean I don't also freak out sometimes. I freaked out HARD. It wasn't particularly anything he did, but my head was somewhere else. And then I just stopped and floated away. My head wasn't in the moment, and my body doing something my head wasn't up to speed with just shut me down entirely. The Pilot was good about asking me what I needed and listening when I finally was able to speak (or even acknowledge that he was speaking to me) again, but it was a scary experience from me, just in how disconnected I could be.

Which lead me to start thinking about being disconnected from sex in general. Not especially from my partners, because they are an important part of my life, but from sex itself. I'm well aware of the cliched woman who, while her man is having sex with her, is counting ceiling tiles or going over the grocery list, but I've never been that woman. And I like not being her. And while I wasn't bored with The Pilot when I freaked out, I just realized I wasn't really there with him. And I didn't like it. I don't like feeling disconnected from what I'm doing, especially in the bedroom.

There are certain things in my past that have taught me how to disconnect what my body is doing from what my heart is feeling. I know this. And I've known I was capable of doing this. But I haven't done it lately. Or at least I didn't realize I had been doing it. But thinking about it, I have been, for years now, disconnecting relationships (little r or capital) from sex. Not that I don't have sex in my relationships, I certainly do... and good sex at that. But I don't often equate that action with being dependent upon the relationship at all. I was talking with my roommate the other night, and she said she'd never had sex with someone she really didn't like. I have. I've had sex with people I couldn't stand outside the bedroom. On repeated occasions. Because it was just sex. Sex itself has been so inherently separated from relationships, or even love or real feelings, that I had forgotten there was any other way to do it.

Talking to The Pilot about this, he was pointing out his philosophy, which is absolutely at the other end of the spectrum from mine. He ONLY has sex with people he really cares about. And as such, sex is intense with him. It was an interesting reminder of philosophies about sex that I haven't had, really, since I was about 16. I think there are valid reasons why I haven't felt that way in such a long time, but it was fascinating to be reminded that not everyone does that.

And it made me wonder if it was something I could go back to. I don't know if there's been too much... everything... in my life to think that way any more. But I want to give it a try. I'm not resorting back to monogamy, but I am pulling back a little bit. I don't totally know how to do that, so I'm fumbling my way through it. It has already started with pulling away from a few people - one being Jacob. I ended things with him... Romantic, sexual, and platonic. It was a selfish decision on my part, but he is somewhere where he needs me in a capacity I can't provide. And it wasn't fair to either of us for me to try to string him along in hopes of sparing his feelings. I should say that he handled it well, and like the grown-up I so want him to be. But there's always a little heartache involved.

It also involves not actually having sex (intercourse, although I hate that word) unless I really want to. Maybe that seems overly simplistic, and I don't have a brilliant explanation for why I'm holding out on penetrative sex, but it's a big deal to me. I want to see if it's something I can make special again. I don't necessarily want it to be the end-all, be-all, and to be honest I don't think I'll ever be at The Pilot's level of intensity about it, but I'm working on that as a model. And appropriating it for myself, and my personality and my history. And we'll see how it goes.

And finally, perhaps the scariest part among all this re-evaluating, there are things that have remained the same. Things I'm letting myself feel instead of quashing them like I usually do. And I must admit, they're driving me a little crazy. It's hard for me to not stop myself, convince myself what I'm feeling is wrong and unreciprocated and silly. It's kind of a losing battle.

But at least no one can say I didn't try.

Introducing...

The Scientist. So named because, firstly, that's what he does. He is quite brilliant at science and math and physics and all of those things that make my head hurt because they are so far beyond my comprehension. But also so named because he has used that knowledge - observation, reason, logic, response, to figure out my body quicker than quite possibly anyone else.

To be fair, he has some advance knowledge. He and I have been friends for nearly a decade, which has been filled with countless spats - some petty, some shockingly epic. But he and I have remained friends, and truly have emerged stronger for all of it. Because of how well we know each other, he already knows about my neuroses, my relationship fears and quirks. He is shockingly good at knowing when to take which tone with me. And since we started hooking up a just over a week ago, he has been notably...more careful with me, emotionally, at least. Initially, I don't think it was something that anyone else would have noticed. (The hickeys were another story.) Of course, after our weekend, we've essentially abandoned all pretenses, at least around certain friends. But he still goes out of his way to make sure that I am OK whenever I'm with him. And because he knows me and my history so well, he knows how to read me emotionally and will do his best to arrange and improve any situation he and I are in.

There is so much more to say, and I will say it in following entries. But for now, I have a guess as to what you really want. And what's been lacking from my posts lately - teh sexeh. So, The Scientist shocked me with how well he read my body from the start. He got me off, with ONLY his hands, in a matter of minutes. I don't think that has ever happened. I'm lucky if I can get myself off with a toy that fast. Again, there are more details forthcoming about all that. And he tells me I rocked his world pretty hard, too. Which is, yknow, never a bad thing to hear.

In fact, apparently I rocked his world so hard that he's been having trouble getting the memories of our encounters of late out of his head. He told me in a text that his hand was having trouble keeping up with him, as he couldn't help himself whenever images of our encounters crossed through his mind. Quite the compliment, right? Well, this afternoon he was texting me, and asked if he might narrate the particular fantasy that was running through his head. I of course said yes.

And then I was sincerely impressed. He is particularly well-rounded for a science nerd (which I say with the greatest adoration - I'm a literary nerd, and nowhere near as well-rounded as he is) in that he is also a strong writer. But even so, I was not expecting such hot sexting. And so I asked him if I could publish it here. And he said I could. I feel like it's an excellent introduction to the discussion of he and I and this weekend and how incredibly lucky I am. It's a mix of various real experiences, mixed in with a little fantasy, too. But I'm not telling what's what.

I am going to transcribe it as a single block, although obviously it ran the course of several messages. The only editing I've done is grammatical. (I can't help it, it's what I do.)

Enjoy!

--

So right now you're on top of me with your shirt off. You're lightly nibbling on that one spot on my neck. I'm running my fingers through your hair and down your back, raking my fingernails against your skin. As you bite down harder, I can feel your heart quicken.

I roll you over and start aggressively biting my way down your neck to your slightly stiffened nipples, as I knead your left breast with my hand and bite down lightly on your nipple a slight sigh escapes your lips. As I continue to nibble on your quickly stiffening nipple I slide my hand down your leg and start massaging your thigh. I kiss my way back up your neck and engage you in a gentle but passionate kiss. I start undoing the button and zipper on your pants. As I slide your pants down I pass my hand over your mound and I can feel the heat and slight moisture of your sexy slit through your underwear.

As the pace and intensity of our kiss intensifies, I slide my hand over and around your barely-covered vagina. As I slip my fingers under your waistband, I momentarily pause our kissing, then as I ever-so-slowly slide my hand down your lightly hair-covered mound, I start to lightly kiss and lick your neck down to your collarbone. As I slide past your hardened clit, I rub up and down your amazingly soft and silky slit, putting gentle pressure on your slickened hole. As I rub back and forth from your luscious honey pot to your now-sensitive clit, I begin to bite down harder on your nipple, pausing every now and then to enjoy one of your excellent kisses. As I continue to tease your expectant entrance, you dig your nails into my back - the words from your mouth becoming tense grunts mixed with longer moans of expectant pleasure. Just as I slip my finger into your wet and smooth pussy, I bite down hard on your neck, causing you to let out a hissed "oh god, fuck!" as you tense and rise up and start to attack my neck with reckless abandon.

As I rub my thumb over your clit, I start to hook my fingers and massage the rough roof of your now flooded vagina. As your breathing quickens, you gasp in pleasure as I take a quick nibble of your wonderful breasts, causing another muffled and half-gasped "fuck" to escape your lips. As I work my way lower with my mouth, you say to me, "your tongue, my clit - NOW." As I willingly follow your impassioned command, I trace circles around your clit. But I know this is no time for teasing as your hips buck against my face. As I fully engage your pleading nub, the gasps and profanity coming from your mouth become a little less coherent and the movements of your hips a little less ordered. I can smell the wonderful scent of your stuffed pussy, causing me to dip a little lower to enjoy your wonderful taste.

My free hand rubs and squeezes your breast. Hard. You run your hand through my hair, making me purr slightly into your dripping vagina. As my pace picks up to a frenzy, I can barely understand the things you are saying to me as they come through clenched lips. Your hips bounce against my eager mouth, causing my fingers to drive deep hard and fast into you. You begin to shake as I hit just the right spot. As you grab my hair you start to pull and grab at it as a wave of pleasure shoots from your finger-filled hole. You pull my hair slightly, and the pain feels good, only spurring me on further to see you to your climax. As I drive you closer and closer to your peak, the words and moans have merged into something akin to a worshipper speaking in tongues. Which causes me to realize that this is a kind of religious experience. As I laugh quietly at myself I proceed to worship at your altar. As your orgasm builds, I can feel it in my fingers and against my mouth as you writhe uncontrollably and your vaginal walls clench onto my fingers. Right as your impending orgasm is on the edge of coming I pinch your nipple, releasing a wave of pleasure over your body as your orgasm crests and washes over you. As your orgasm continues I lighten my pressure on your clit and begin to slowly remove my fingers from your deliciously wet slit.

As you come down from your orgasmic high, I remove my fingers and start to kiss my way back up your body. As I lovingly kiss your lips, I slide my arm around you and hold you close as your orgasmic glow recedes. After a short while of holding you, listening to your breathing return to normal, you roll me over, kiss me on the lips, and say, "That was wonderful...Now it's your turn."

--


So, readers, what do you think of The Scientist? I'm rather fond of him.

flashback

I had lost all concept of time, but had a very keen sense of place and every other physical sensation coursing through me. Friend had situated himself between my legs, his fingers working in and out of my cunt and curling inside me as his tongue circled and sucked on my clit - my hips rising to meet his mouth as I sunk deeper into that alternate universe where, again, things like this actually happen.

The Pilot had pulled himself up next to me, his hands strong as they grasped at my waist, my tits. He'd alternate between kissing my lips and my neck - that spot right at the base of my collarbone that he'd figured out makes me shiver and whimper and melt all at once.

My world was fast condensing into a very specific tunnel vision consisting of only the three of us as Friend continued fucking me with his mouth and the Pilot tightened his grip on my body. As the Pilot moved one of his hands toward my collarbone, instinct took over. I brought my hand to his and placed it across my neck, and I swear I caught him smiling out of the corner of my eye as he tightened his grip.

And then I absolutely lost it. With the Pilot's fingers around my throat and Friend's inside of me, my bucking hips moved faster and I didn't even have time to feel that heat starting at the base of my spine. Pleasure just ripped through me as my back arched and my vision became just a white light and some unconscionable stream of profanities flew out of my mouth. I couldn't tell you exactly what I said, but I'm pretty sure it resembled

OHFUCKHOLYSHITJESUSFUCKINGCHRISTFUCKGODFUCKINGDAMMITFUCKFUCK

And then I was panting and only vaguely aware of both Friend's satisfied smirk and the Pilot's eyes looking me over as I started shaking from the aftershock. Friend chuckled to himself as he got up, and I just started giggling incessantly, still trying to catch my breath and unable to move any of my limbs more than they were already quivering. Had the light been better, I'm sure you could have seen my entire body flushed. Someone, the Pilot I think, said something, in reference to me coming hard and loud or something, and I tried to put words together to make a response and utterly failed. Which induced more giggling. Because it was really all I could do, as my breath finally started evening out and the tunnel vision widened back to include at least the room the three of us were in.

A challenge!

So last night my roommate and I had a traditional girly-night. We stayed up entirely too late, talking about boys and sex and love and life and giggling entirely too loudly. It was a lot of fun. I had, admittedly, had a margarita or two, which made the conversation regarding sex that much more interesting and easy-flowing (as if it's difficult for me to talk about sober. Ha!). But as we started talking, she confided in me that she's never had an orgasm. By her own or with a partner. I tried to restrict my ohmygodyoupoordeprivedthing reaction, and think I did a reasonable job. I asked her if she thought there was a reason, and she said she thinks it's mostly mental, and there are some things in her past that she recognizes are mental blocks. I told her I hope that one day she finds someone who she trusts enough and is comfortable enough with to be able to let go and share that feeling that comes from such an incredible release. I thought I was doing pretty well, hoping my sex-positiveness would rub off on her. (Earlier, she'd discussed how she doesn't masturbate because she thinks it's gross, and consequently doesn't want her partners going down on her or really, anywhere near her clit. I validated that, even as I was a little shocked and trying to process what a sex life like that would look like.)

And then she asked me what an orgasm felt like. She said all her friends had told her "oh, it's the best feeling in the world, blahblahblah." But she wanted to know, physically, what it felt like. I told her it's different for everyone, and the best I could do was offer what it felt like for me. She said she'd like to know.

And then I stumbled. I fell short of being able to describe what an orgasm feels like, without going into flowery metaphors and abstract similes or hyperbole. I started off all right, but eventually, I just got lost.

So, fellow bloggers, who absolutely write better about sex than I do, I'm asking for your help. How would you describe your orgasm? Physically, and as free of flowery abstraction as possible. (Although, I know for me it's largely mental and emotional as well, so there's no strict bar on the use of literary devices.) I'd love to figure out how to capture that emotional connection and release with the physical sensation. Not a medicalized description, because I know what that is. I know which muscles contract, I know which chemicals are released in the brain. That doesn't help my roomie know how it feels.

So, how would you describe an orgasm to someone who's never had one?

Feel free to comment here or make it a post. Perhaps I'll show the responses to my roomie and see if she gets a better idea than I could offer her from your inevitably-better-suited words. Thank you in advance!