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At the very moment of orgasm my whole body shudders, any tense muscles momentarily go weak.

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Have to be careful not to fall on people. It grows from a want to a need very quickly. Like flicking a switch. Every ounce of energy becomes dedicated to getting that fix.

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Then when it comes it hits hard. Not just in my cock but all over. Just getting it done so I can focus on work. This feels absolutely wonderful, like every synapse fires in my brain simultaneously. The last time I had one this good, I actually stuttered for like fifteen minutes after. That sensation of pent-up release, of the throbbing of the hose as the water is finally allowed to pour out, is very similar to an orgasm. When simulating the penis head, it feels incredibly nice. But it depends on how well the person did for the build up.

So, the best way to describe it, is like peeing, then holding it for a second, then peeing again. It involves my whole body. I am left gasping and shuddering after sex irrespective of size of orgasm. Once my heart rate decreases I can usually reassure them. During orgasm I feel spasms in my dick that are utterly uncontrollable. The feeling of ejaculation is sublime, but seems to have no relationship to the quantity of sperm shot out. That appears to me to be a fiction of porn. A fun thought though.

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MORE: Straight men share what sex feels like when you have a penis. She had come a second time and she wanted him to stop. They disengaged, shaking. They were sitting on the floor leaning into the corner of the room, her mouth on his nipple, her hand moving his dick slowly. An intricate science, his whole body imprisoned there, a ship in a bottle. Come in my mouth.

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Moving forward, his fingers pulling back her hair like torn silk, he ejaculated, disappearing into her. She crooked her finger, motioning, and he bent down and put his mouth on hers. I had a confusion of feelings and thoughts: embrace her, weep with her, kiss her, pull her hair, laugh, pretend to sexual experience and instruct her in a learned voice, distancing her with words just at the moment of greatest closeness. But in the end there was only the hostile thought that I was washing her, from her hair to the soles of her feet, early in the morning, just so that Stefano could sully her in the course of the night.

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I imagined her naked as she was at that moment, entwined with her husband, in the bed in the new house, while the train clattered under their windows and his violent flesh entered her with a sharp blow, like the cork pushed by the palm into the neck of a wine bottle. And it suddenly seemed to me that the only remedy against the pain I was feeling, that I would feel, was to find a corner secluded enough so that Antonio could do to me, at the same time, the exact same thing.

Yes, it has to be given. And the kiss continued on past the point where he usually broke off. Then, slowly, he pulled away. I groped for him, as though I were blind. And he was kissing me again, and slipping the shorty nightgown over my head.

A detailed guide to the top rated late night stories for grown-ups and significant others.

His strong and gentle hands began to stroke me, his hands, his lips, his tongue. Not frightening. Knowing what he was doing. I felt my nipples rise, and it startled me. Ammu, naked now, crouched over Velutha, her mouth on his. He drew her hair around them like a tent. Like her children did when they wanted to exclude the outside world.

She slid further down, introducing herself to the rest of him. His neck. His nipples. His chocolate brown stomach. She sipped the last of the river from the hollow of his navel. She pressed the heat of his erection against her eyelids. She tasted him, salty, in her mouth.

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He sat up and drew her back to him. She felt his belly tighten under her, hard as a board.

She felt her wetness slipping on his skin. He took her nipple in his mouth and cradled her other breast in his calloused palm. Velvet gloved in sandpaper. So that was our love affair. Wordless, blinkered, a nighttime thing, a dream thing. There were reasons on my side for this as well. Whatever it was that I was was best revealed slowly, in flattering light.

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Which meant not much light at all. You try things out in the dark. You get drunk or stoned and extemporize. Think back to your backseats, your pup tents, your beach bonfire parties. Did you ever find yourself, without admitting it, tangled up with your best friend? Or in a dorm room bed with two people instead of one, while Bach played on the chintzy stereo, orchestrating the fugue? Before the routine sets in, or the love. Back when the groping is largely anonymous. Sandbox sex.

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It starts in the teens and lasts until twenty or twenty-one. Sometimes when I climbed on top of the Object she would almost wake up.