Night of Longest, Strongest Orgasms

Had I had the capability to speak, something I doubted therefore at that point didn't bother to try, I would have begged Linder to enter me, please, now, quickly, please, please, please! He still delayed, but slowly removed the rest of his clothing. How beautiful he was then, and he stood there allowing me to look at him, stood there undeniably ready and eager for me. My squirming increased as did my smile. Every pore of my being seemed to be smiling, filled with a passionate joy that words fail to express, seemed to exist only for his next touch.

He securely put on a condom then slowly, with wonderfully agonizing attention to each second, lowered himself to be almost on me. He returned to a prone position, this time resting on his elbows but with his whole body above mine, not yet touching. Naturally, he had to arch his hips up to create this effect, arching further whenever I raised my hips to try to intercept his. I couldn't restrain a few quiet groans of despair as my body sought his but was denied. After several more attempts, I resigned myself to whatever he might do, perhaps even nothing, and so smiled and squirmed with simple a delight of being there and still feeling the potent echoes of so many earlier, delicious orgasms. He smiled, too, and hovered almost effortlessly over me, protective and enticing.

When I happened to close my eyes for a few moments, he lowered his hips until nothing between us touched but the tip of his penis to my clitoris. I exploded! I had to bite hard on my left fist to keep quiet, to even partly subdue my gasps while a massive orgasm threatened to separate my sanity from my flesh. For a short time he was able to "dance" with me, keeping his hips just far enough from mine, despite my erratic thrusts, so that our only contact was through our sexual hardness. But then he relaxed a bit, allowed me to push my hips several inches off the cushion to push myself up to him, to push him into me.

That was the last action I could take for a long time as more orgasms controlled me, completely took possession of my mind, body, soul, past, future, willpower, everything. Linder still hadn't fully entered me, something I only realized a few minutes later when he took the opportunity of a lessening of my bucking to almost forcibly thrust all the way in. All I could wonder is how in hell he could control himself so well when I couldn't manage any control at all! I focused all of my power on living through the intensity, willing my lungs to breathe, my heart to pump within survivable limits.

Somehow I could still buck against his hips, couldn't help it, to be honest, and he now began to give in completely to his passion. No controlling or holding back any more, his breathing deepened substantially, his just-scented-enough sweat starting drenching us both, his chest heated to fever levels, his gentle strokes grew faster and stronger until they, too, were beyond his ability to stop. He was thrusting into me so intensely, and me against him, that a tiny portion of the sense remaining to me wondered briefly if I would be bruised severely. I answered myself, "So what??" and gave myself up to the fullest experience I had ever known.

He exploded inside me, gulped air, and perhaps unknowingly held me in his arms with a squeeze so tight that it might have hurt at any other time but that instead took me over the edge yet again. Shuddering periodically, gradually his panting eased to deep breathing, his body heat steadily receded to normal, and his tight muscles soon began to relax a little. He was happily spent, as was I.

He lay on top of me, inside of me, for several minutes more, enjoying rest from the huge earthquakes that had shaken us. Sometimes an aftershock would suddenly possess me and, for a few moments, I would be in a full orgasm again, which would trigger him to regain more of his hardness that with a few little thrusts would in turn send me into another orgasm, reduced in intensity yet still quite powerful. I don't know what it actually sounded like, but with all of my being I was purring within myself and aloud.

Eventually, he lifted himself off me to clean up, and our conversation resumed, much more quietly, politely, and mostly just about the tasks at hand. Our smiles continued unreduced.

When he had left the room I decided to get up, get cleaned, and prepare to leave soon since dawn was beginning to creep through the curtains. But this is where I was dramatically surprised - quite literally I could not get up! I tried, and tried, but no matter what I did I could not roll, pull, push or will myself up to a sitting position. I was in great health at the time, could easily do dozens of pushups and sit ups, yet this simple act was completely and truly beyond me. Embarrassed, I eventually called Linder into the room and asked him to lift me, which fortunately he could do. Upon standing, even after he had helped me to regain my balance, my hands and feet were almost completely numb; from all of the orgasms and twisting and panting, my extremities had lost most of their sensation! I flopped my feet into the bathroom, awkwardly cleaned up, and flopped back into the living room where I was not yet capable of dressing myself. My hands didn't function with enough skill to handle a bra, zipper, etc. How bizarre!

I felt utterly stupid in asking if I could take a bath, wondering if maybe it would help me, thinking my numbness might be related perhaps to being colder than I had realized. Obviously not in his plans, still he chivalrously started a bath for me. The hot water warmed me and cleaned me, but my hands and feet were still somewhat numb, and my mind was still intensely spacy from the almost non-stop orgasms. With his assistance I dried off and dressed. Linder fed me a light breakfast, which revived me a bit more, but being utterly exhausted himself and with the sun slanting brightly through the windows, he was too depleted to think or act further. With fond, light kisses, we parted at his door, friends for a couple of years more until I moved away after college.

It's amazing that I was able to drive the twenty or so miles back to my apartment in that condition: tremendously weak, partly numb, grinning uncontrollably and so widely that my cheeks actually hurt, breaking into snippets of song every other minute, most often belting out "I'll stop the world and melt with you". I was still oddly energized, not from the small amounts of caffeine but from, perhaps, the hyper-oxygenated blood all of my panting had created that was now rushing through my body? (Much later I wondered if I had been drugged, but a similar although lesser effect has happened to me a few delicious times since in quite different circumstances.) In the afternoon I napped, awoke ravishingly hungry, ate an early dinner, then finished my homework for classes the next day.