“How many times did you come there at the last?” Jack asked as I nestled in his arms.
“Five,” I said, enjoying the feel of his finger tips outlining my breasts.
“So is it like one long big one, or are they really separate?”
I thought about his question. And pondered how to describe the almost indescribable pleasure he had just given me.
“Imagine coming,” I said, “and then taking a breath. And another breath. And then imagine coming again. But this time even harder. Take two more breaths and then come again. Harder. Imagine that cycle repeating over and over and being unable to stop it.”
“Wow,” he said softly.
Wow was an understatement, I thought to myself. If he hadn’t joined me at last and orgasmed with a roar of his own, I don’t know how long I would have panted and spasmed and squirted. I do know that, for me at least, in order to let go like that, to be comfortable enough to let the tight grip I keep on the reins of control loosen enough for that to happen, it’s a rare and wonderful experience.