Now, seeing that it is Juno (the made-up edging holiday for denial sluts, of course — via edging.space, a long time ago), and I’m back to happily edging my brains out…
I’ve been asked to write about my most memorable orgasm.
Mean. Deliciously mean.
So, I’ve been surfing the internet for a long time. From way back in the days of AOL chat rooms — god, what a cesspool of humanity that was — and Netscape servers.
Granted, I had had fantasies about control, pain, submission before that — but I didn’t really have words for words for these things (in a sexual context), and I certainly didn’t know other people also thought about them.
The internet was eye-opening, and validating.
I spend countless hours looking and reading.
Kind of like now, but more wide-eyed and wet-eared.
I remember coming across some discussion group, and someone mentioned using an electric toothbrush as a vibrator. (Full disclosure: as a mature adult now, I can say that this is a terrible idea and no one should do it. There, I said it.)
I had an electric toothbrush.
It took me approximately six seconds to run and get it.
The first time, it was too much. So much. It was so powerful, I could barely touch it to my clit. But I kept at it, because I’m not a fucking quitter. I worked on it for days, maybe. Weeks. Desensitizing myself. (Looking back, maybe this was the wrong thing to do. Meh.)
And soon, a brand-new sensation ripped through my body — it was like every muscle in my body contracting, my teeth trying to bite through each other. A loss of bodily control that could only have been an orgasm.
It was marvelous. Fantastic. Unlike anything I had ever experienced.
I was hooked. Immediately.
The toothbrush became my favorite thing.
After much, much experimentation, I found that I could set the toothbrush on the ground (bristles up, obviously), and straddle it with my legs spread, pretending that my hands were tied behind my back. In this way, it gave the illusion of having no control over the vibrations rocking through my body.
I liked to imagine that my dom was sitting there, watching me, forcing me to sit there and take it. Forcing me to take all that pleasure.
The first orgasm made me shudder, crumpling me forward. I clenched and bucked through the sensations, imagining being under the control of a man who would delight in my suffering.
Then the second orgasm hit me, and then the third.
This had never happened before.
But it was like I never quite got to the end of the orgasm… each set of aftershocks just built up again, to another orgasm. And another, and another. And another.
How long did this go on, you wonder? How long did I sit there, straddling, with the vibrations from that toothbrush rocketing me through repeated, multiple orgasms?
I don’t know.
I stayed there until the battery died. Until I couldn’t eke out another.
I lost count at eighty, but it went on for some time after that.
And that is the story of my more memorable orgasm. Orgasms.
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