My orgasmic experience in the sex chair was lovely and fierce: an exhilarating liberation of the shame I felt as a non-orgasmic femme. Like a warrior Valkyrie, off to Valhalla I metaphorically sent my fear of sexual dysfunction and with it, my chronic anorgasmia.
As I focused on personal orgasmic quests, I experienced minor tremors riding a dildo fastened to the toilet seat lid. But it required some prep time, and I’m always running late. Most euphoric sex requires sufficient stimulation of the lady bits to engorge and prepare the clitoris and vagina for orgasmic contact. I experimented with methods to achieve stronger orgasms with less masturbation time, but knew my clit would not be denied.
My modus operandi was the use of a powerful vibrator pressed to my clit and teasingly around the perimeter of my vulva. I squealed when I pressed down on the hood of my clit and forced it to the left side of my labia.
This Swiss movement sent ripples of excitement down the internal wishbone shaft of my clit and excited my vaginal opening. After several minutes of intense clit stimulation, I massaged the length of my pussy lips with the vibrator and began circling my vigi. When I could no longer withstand the aching need, I slid the screaming vibrator into my pussy and paused to experience the tingling full-genital sensation.
I steadily rode that cock till vaginal orgasm claimed my pelvic nerves and all of my conscious senses.
Often, clit stim alone caused me to cum multiple times before navigating toward my pussy, and once anchored in that wet port, I was sufficiently swelled and ached for that thick dildo fuck. I slowly lowered myself onto the dildo, feeling it stretching my pussy and spreading my insides wide. I steadily rode that cock till vaginal orgasm claimed my pelvic nerves and all of my conscious senses.
I knew I had experienced a mild vaginal orgasm, and I recognized the importance of prolonged genital stimulation in facilitating sexual nirvana, but I remained unsatisfied. I longed for an explosive full-body orgasm that exponentially increased my experience.
I excelled in toilet-dong-riding, but my mechanics were flawed. The physical riding strength required for orgasm often exceeded my mortal abilities. I needed to save my thighs the arduous and exhausting thrusting needed to power my pussy sufficiently over the edge. I longed for an improved masturbation method that cut preparation time, yet still delivered a full-body convulsive experience.
Employing the Yankee ingenuity often required for significant discovery lead me to orgasmic mechanical success. Combining the aforementioned George Foreman Grille, a simple sex chair, and my favorite dildo enabled me to break free of terra firma and ride triumphantly among the mythical Valkyries.
I attached my favorite dildo to the plastic lid of the George Foreman Grille and slid the apparatus under my sex chair. I appropriately lubed the dong, caressed it as I would a hand-job on a hard cock, and fantasized about my imminent fuck-in-waiting. And now that I was easily squirting from clit or G-spot stimulation, I could forego the extensive foreplay previously needed to plateau.
With vibrator in hand, I spread my legs, sat down, and started rubbing the standing dildo around my pussy lips. I thought of my lover’s cock and my vigi twitched in anticipation. I quickly pushed the dong into my eager place and lowered my throbbing pussy onto it. The rush of that cock sliding deep inside me, spreading me wide and stimulating every inch of my vagina was extraordinary. So full, so invasively deep, I moaned and paused my descent when the dildo reached my deep spot.
A fuck this extraordinary had to be savored and enhanced, elevating it to the epiphany I sought. Applying the vibrator to my clit against the fullness of the balls-deep dildo triggered the urge to ride: a primordial need to fuck hard, fast, and deliberately. I began bouncing, riding, and grinding that cock till I slipped into a Zen meditative state. The vibrations saturated my pelvic region as I slowly gained speed, the angle I needed, and the exact physics I sought.
Caught between consciousness and the surreal, I was bewitched by the aura of a pending full-body vaginal orgasm.
After a vigorous 15-minute ride, something incredible was evolving. The deep, internal throb of the vibe, combined with an exact, consistent thrusting motion, set my vaginal wall abuzz. With head thrown back, mouth ajar, and eyes watering, I felt a divine flush, absolute bliss, and an uncontrollable urge. Caught between consciousness and the surreal, I was bewitched by the aura of a pending full-body vaginal orgasm. I squeezed my PC muscle hard and immediately succumbed to a frenetic series of muscle spasms, all of which were beyond my control.
The internal tendrils of my clitoris erupted at my pussy, grew in intensity, and electrified my vulva before turning inward and jarring my vaginal walls with an epic spasm. I sat squealing and helpless as my legs shook and the jolt exploded every genital member and rushed deep into my pelvis.
My pussy and ass convulsed two or three times as I danced the phenomenon that overtook and exorcised my body. Convulsing in waves of impulses, my body shook like a rag doll. Enraptured, astonished, and paralyzed against it, I had experienced an out of body, extra-sensory experience.
The aftershock stunned me briefly. I melted into my chair in an exhausted heap: awestruck, limp, exalted – a goddess. Venus had granted the sublime, ethereal gift, and my glazed eyes saw the Valkyries.
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