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Numbers one through four were your standard-issue, off the shelf orgasms, the kind you have when you’ve needed to come for a few days but life (read: holiday stuff) has kept you apart from your sex-toys.
Number five, ah, that was a good one. My body had warmed up nicely by then and number five was a head to toe moany open-lipped explosion of pleasure.
Number five was delicious.
Numbers six through twelve snuck up on me, one after the next, straightening out my body and causing me to clutch at the couch. With each successive spasm, the craving to have a toy in my bottom increased.
But I held out. The vibe needed new batteries after number twelve. I rolled onto my side, groaning, and fished the batteries out from where they’d wandered under the couch.
Number thirteen occurred as soon as the revved-up vibe began circling around my clit. Number thirteen was a hip-grinding orgasm, one where I had to move or I’d die.
Then I stopped, only for a minute, to slide my toy into my bottom. As my body adjusted to the stretching and circled slowly around my clit, I felt number 14 building.
Oh, number fourteen. Thick hot ropes of yumminess surrounded my bottom before capturing my clit too. The first orgasm with a penetrated ass is intense. All-consuming. It makes me thrash.
I know orgasms numbers fifteen through eighteen happened, because I was counting–and no, I don’t typically count my orgasms. Some strange compulsion suggested yesterday that I enumerate.
And then, finally, number nineteen. I knew it was going to be a huge one, the final one, the biggest one of all for this session. It shook my entire body and the pictures on the wall.
I laid there poking fun at myself for being so lame as to count orgasms; gradually it began to irritate me that I’d stopped on such an awkward number. Come on, I thought to myself, with my orgasm-addled brain, why nineteen? Why not some nice round number?
No more, whimpered the sliver on my consciousness that wasn’t utterly depleted of reason.
More! insisted my clit.
Guess who won?
______
Have you heard Twisted Sister’s version of “Oh Come All Ye Faithful“?
Instant classic. The song had an entire mini full of small people rockin’ on the way to school this morning; even small people who don’t know any actual words were singing along.
This song has done what malls, trees and ringing bells have all failed to do. It has put me into the Christmas spirit.
Thanks, Twisted Sister!
