And hot damn, are they goooood!
I’ve been chasing the prostate orgasm for months, perhaps years now, the way many women chase that elusive first g-spot orgasm. And while some assholes may still question the existence of a g-spot, there’s no doubt that the prostate exists.
The question is rather — can it produce pleasure on its own?
I’d heard tell around the campfire, my friends, about the orgasm without ejaculation, drawn out by prostate stimulation.
I was told it could be long, and multiple, and unlike anything I’d ever experienced — namely, short and single.
After all our bodies are designed so once the semen shoots out, shop gets closed up, the lights get turned off, and our balls say, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”
I think I’d come close, once, with a very special friend who was intent on focusing on me instead of her. She had me feeling all sorts of unique and new sensationsbefore putting her mouth on me to finish the job. That orgasm had an ejaculation, indeed, but the erection didn’t immediately subside.
Looked like someone forgot to turn off the lights. The factory was still producing.
This fascinated me, because that never happens. I’m one of those people that, once I orgasm, the chemicals being produced change my point of view so suddenly that I feel like I never need to have sex again.
Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt.
Unlike the g-spot, which can be an elusive to say the least, but fairly common practice amongst the open friends of my social circle, I’d never known anyone who’d actually managed a prostate orgasm.
Not only that, most of them seemed not to care.
But I cared. I cared big time.
Much of my definition of sex (which as many of you know I’ve been trying to alter) has been caught up in that white jizzy final expulsion.
Since I know (thyself) myself, and that I have that “closed for business entirely” sensibility after an orgasm, I tend to put my partner’s pleasure first almost entirely. Once she has had an orgasm, or many, only then do I allow myself to head in that direction.
Because of that, the idea of an orgasm that wouldn’t end things is tremendously appealing.
The problems with chasing such an orgasm are many.
It’s a sensitive area indeed. And the prostate orgasm, much like a first g-spot orgasm, requires a lot of time, concentration, and effort to go after.
If they exist at all, that is. And Tristan Taormino has assured me they do, as not only has she seen one, but she’s CREATED one.
Of course, if Tristan laid those beautiful hands on me …
But I digress.
All this talk about the possibility that they don’t exist is silly — though, isn’t it. Especially now that I’ve had one, anyway.
Yesterday, on a bed near the rooftop hot tub at Desire Resort and Spa, as I enjoyed demonstrating the nJoy Eleven on a very willing volunteer, I asked if someone might insert my favorite butt plug, handmade by the incredibly talented Boris.
A volunteer came forward, a beautiful woman whom I’d shared a lot of eye contact and some kisses with at our speed dating event. I was assured she was a professional (though I wasn’t certain what that meant at the time) and that I shouldn’t worry. As it was a fairly small plug, I wasn’t worried to begin with. I thanked her for her enthusiasm and continued with the nJoy on my lovely playmate.
After insertion, she didn’t step back, she continued to manipulate, pressing the plug, moving it in and out, circling it.
Before long I was distracted.
Before long after that I could no longer continue with the Eleven. (Which was all right, as my playmate had brought out her LELO Siri and had intoned that she might have had enough of the massive Eleven.) I continued to kneel on top of her as she played with herself, responding compersively to my spasms, which are quite common during anal stimulation.
Before long I could no longer support myself, the distraction was too great, and I asked if she would mind if I flipped over and lie down. She asked if I was doing alright, if it was too much, making contact on my arm and thigh with her hands as she asked. Tremendously comforting.
“But you’ll say that if it hurts?”
“I’ll say it,” I promised.
She became more aggressive, moving her whole body into it, gripping my thigh and my arm at times, putting her hand on my chest to gain leverage, to hold me down, to push the energy right into me.
Somewhere in there, it started.
I’ve always achieved small spasms during prostate play, the kind of spasms you hit as your penis is being played with, those early signposts that you’re going in the right direction. With prostate stim these moments were usually brief but very pleasurable. I found these spasms growing longer and closer together. Becoming full tremors, full body shaking. Bigger and bigger, closer and closer, until the gap between them disappeared.
And here’s where it all gets fuzzy and dreamlike.
Once the gap vanished it was like a wave rushing toward shore that wasn’t breaking, and the shore just moved along at the same speed as the wave. On and on the shakiness rolled, spasming, rocking my body. I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t think.
“Shhh, don’t clench,” she whispered to me, running her fingers up and down my very tense legs. My hands were indeed clenched into tight fists. I opened them and put my head back down.
This continued for the better part of an hour. At least I think so. Time lost meaning and I honestly have no idea. I may have been orgasming for decades there, or only a minute. Though I’ve since been assured it was almost fifty minutes from the beginning of the “clearly orgasmic” portion of my time on that bed to the end. When I threw the flag down and tapped out.
I thanked her muchly, and she assured me that I had indeed progressed through many and varied orgasms — if my face and body were any indication.
As I lie there, basking for just a moment, a curious thing hit me. An aftershock tremor hit, causing me to curl up my knees to my chest. This by itself was surprising enough, but when these tremors continued during the walk back to our room, during the shower before dinner, during getting food from the buffet (to the point where I had to ask a friend to get me a deviled egg because I couldn’t hold the tongs steady), and through on to eating.
Only after sitting at dinner for a half hour or so did they finally begin to subside.
A nearly endless orgasm with the vast capacity for more. Without the standard feelings of “M’kay, I’m done.” A whole new world.
She made me promise to show her how the nJoy Eleven works. I asked her if she’s done any pegging. She admitted she hadn’t had much experience at all with a harness, but was game to experiment.
How thrilling that is.
After all, I’m no longer chasing the possibly mythical prostate orgasm. Now I’m just chasing the very real NEXT prostate orgasm.
O happy day!