Woke up early; chased the dark orgasm
There’s a certain kind of orgasm that I can’t remember ever having with a partner before, but it sort of makes me get all melty and develop short-lived afterglow crushes on myself for being able to give it to me.
A regular clitoral orgasm is a kiss of a crescendo. If it were a fragrance it would be crisp, glittering, green and golden. The kind I’m talking about is an almost violent crash followed by a shock wave: byzantine and dark with undertones of spice.
It feels like it crept out of the squirting orgasm phylum a bit after my body learned the trick of ejaculating from just clitoral stimulation. But even that is brighter. This darker orgasm pulses like its predecessor, but it seems like the contractions that accompany it are deeper, more throbbing. It slaps across my clit and then sears all the way up to my cervix, and my pelvic muscles contract in waves like my pussy’s suckling a phantom cock.
Just trust me on this: it’s awesome.
They’re a little tricky to coax out, but even so I’m starting to get disappointed if I have to hobble away from a masturbation session without getting at least one. This is where greed will get you: spending most of the morning with your vibrator.
