It’s a winter night, mid-December. Thia and I are first-year degree students, and it’s just a few weeks since I met Thia for the first time.
We’ve been out for a meal for our first ever date, and things seem to have gone pretty well all evening.
Sometime after arriving back at my student flat, post-date, I kiss Thia for the first time, in the snow-covered, moonlit courtyard outside. I say flat, but it was a room in a three-storey, six-bedroomed house (part of a newly-built student-housing complex of about twenty) with a couple of communal bathrooms and a shared kitchen and lounge. It was quite a romantic setting – there was even snow falling at the time – but unfortunately it (the kiss, not the snow) somehow results in Thia losing a contact lens. The evening culminates in my gathering up numerous washing-up bowlfuls of snow, and melting them in the kitchen sink in an effort to find the lens. In the end, I take her home and carry on melting bowlfuls of snow into the night.
I don’t find the lens.
I do find all sorts of things that I wished I had not, and which are not at home in a kitchen sink.
Anyway, I suppose almost immediately after that relationship milestone, we become very touchy-feely, snuggly, generally loved-up and so on.
So, long story short: after getting officially together (following the date, kiss and contact lens incident), Thia and I spend quite a bit of our free time just lying together on my bed and having a bit of a snuggle. We are very soon well-used to lying about next to or on each other and being in very close physical contact.
Now it’s Friday, December 18, a week after that first date and the last day of term: tomorrow I will be heading off home for Christmas (Thia lives at home, not far from the university, during term time). On this freezing cold, winter evening, I take Thia to see Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat, which is on at the local theatre.
Thia is wearing a fairly light dress (unusual for her) and a thick coat. She has an absolute whale of a time: it is a very happy-clappy, singalong, audience-participation sort of show. For my part, I sulk throughout. It is just about the last place on earth that I want to be; such a long, long way from my introvert’s comfort zone.
While at the show, I try quite hard not to look like someone who has just sat on a decomposing slug, but Thia will say I did not try at all and was an embarrassment to be with.
After it’s over, we walk in the cold night air back to my flat (only about 15 minutes away), with Thia alternately singing songs from the show, trying to “chivvy me up” and berating me for sulking and ruining it.
Anyway, back at the flat, we both go to the toilet and then lie side by side on the bed, with Thia on my left. After a while, she gives up trying to “reason” me into thinking I have actually enjoyed myself, and silence descends.
Even though I have experienced a dreadful ordeal, it is obviously nice to be with Thia, and even in full-on sulk mode I don’t want to completely ruin the evening for her (just enough that she will never think of going to something like that ever again). So to indicate that everything is really still okay with us, I slide my left hand underneath her and put it under her bum, half-expecting her to push it away … but she doesn’t.
We lie there for a while, with the arm attached to my bum-holding hand going numb because she is lying on it. So I reposition us so that we are lying on top of each other, face to face, with Thia on top and with her legs between mine. Actually, we are not literally face to face: I think she is suffocating in the pillow, but I am now okay! Now, both my hands are free, so I put them both on her bum over her dress. She still doesn’t complain. With hindsight, this could be because she has suffocated, but fortunately that turns out not to be the case.
With both hands free, and an extremely pert, firm little bum in them and no complaining going on, it seems like a good idea to go a bit further. So I gather up her dress (which is actually a very light one, more like a summer dress) and pull the back of it above her waist, where it is held in place by a belt. She has on tights and knickers (a word she and, since then, I never use, so let’s say pants), so now my hands are able to be even closer to actual bum skin; just a couple of layers of clothing between it and me. My thumbs trace the little portion of warm, naked skin between the point where her belt is anchoring her dress, and the top of her tights. By this time, it will be very obvious to Thia that something is happening, but there we are – she is far too polite to do anything at all except await further developments.
Before long, I slip one hand and then the other inside her tights and pants and actually onto her bum. It feels very nice! “These theatre nights might be a good thing after all!” I think to myself.
After a while, I wonder (having got this far without too much difficulty) if I might actually be able to reach between her legs from behind right around to her vagina…
Nope. And her perineum seems a bit ticklish, which could disrupt progress if I’m not careful.
Hmm. I don’t want to spoil things by over-trying this approach.
To progress further, I will have to break the spell of silent consent and actually perform some sort of manoeuvre, risking losing what my hands are currently enjoying. I mean, this is Thia’s actual bum! It’s warm and soft and just feels really naked, personal and sexual. Above all, my hands are in Thia’s pants! Wow!
Still, I like a challenge, so I set about subtly (okay, so it’s not really very subtle) wriggling the pair of us about a bit so that I can get at the front.
I roll us both onto our sides (my right side and her left – unfortunately this proves to be the wrong way around!) and move my left hand around Thia’s hip and all the way to the front. Oh my God! My hand (back of) is actually in Thia’s pubic hair! Does life actually get any better than this?!
Well, yes it does, because flexing my fingers (backwards) means I can very definitely feel a slit…
Okay, still there’s no complaining from Thia (although I haven’t seen her face for about fifteen minutes) – maybe I will try another subtle wriggle about.
A few moments of unspoken complete cooperation then ensue, during which I manage to get my right hand the right way up and inside the front of Thia’s pants. Oh joy! And while we are on a roll, let’s just take the pants and tights down to her knees and beyond to her ankles and right the way off. In doing so, I find myself looking at Thia’s bottom half completely naked for the first time ever. There’s her neat, very dark bush [a fellow student, much later, once commented on her “striking, dark black, little bush”, a comment Thia was quite taken with, I think – and wouldn’t you just love to know the circumstances of that conversation?!] and the clearly visible slit within it. Wow!
And now … I am able to lie back down beside her in some fashion, and place my right middle finger straight onto the start of that tantalising cleft and I have lots of free movement to go further. I savour the moment (very briefly) before moving my finger downwards, incredibly excited as I do, feeling my way between her legs. She draws her knees up a bit and opens her legs!
Will I be able to find her clitoris? Will she tell me to stop? At what point AM I going to stop? On we go…
Oh God, there’s her clitoris! No missing that squishy, springy little thing; Thia’s body gives a very noticeable, confirmatory twitch at the first touch of it. I will come back to this in a minute…
Next, labia. Warm, really warm. And inside them is wet. Very, very wet! And slippery. And so soft. And then…
My finger is in Thia’s vagina! IN Thia’s VAGINA! My fingertip feels the gentle resistance just inside the slippery opening and I push gently, further into the hot, muscular wetness. Her vagina opens and lets my finger right inside. Thia’s body gives another little twitch and her hot little hole then tightens upon my probing digit and grips it firmly.
And there my finger stays for a while, moving just a little, feeling the warmth and the slipperiness while she gets hotter and hotter and wetter and wetter. Then I withdraw my hand a little, so my now very slippery middle fingertip is once again right on her easy-to-find clitoris. With my other fingers, I can feel her whole vulva pulsing. Wow!
I look at her face. Yes, about bleedin’ time! Her eyes are like saucers! They look straight into mine and just sort of burn. I move my finger on her clitoris. There’s another, bigger body twitch and her eyes grow even wider. And then I start to stroke it. Slowly, gently, up and down, round and round, this way and that, feeling its shape, its texture and its intriguing combination of softness and hardness, sometimes as lightly as a feather, sometimes with more of an actual rub, now and then rolling it gently between my finger and thumb.
As I continue, her breathing changes to irregular, random little gasps. She becomes quite incredibly (bed-markingly) wet and starts to have prolonged episodes of random little shakes and twitches. Her eyes close for seconds at a time and then open really wide and just … stare, without focusing or blinking. I feel the whole length of her clitoris expanding, while continuing to stroke the sensitive little tip. The shaking and twitching become much more pronounced. Thia moistens her lips with her tongue and swallows with a gulp. Her face, neck and ears flush.
Has she done this before? Surely she has? Hasn’t she? She must have done, mustn’t she? It rather looks as if she hasn’t. Has someone else done this to her before? It really seems like new territory for her. Shall I carry on?
I carry on.
The tip of Thia’s clitoris now becomes a swollen, taut little bead. Her breathing is so irregular that it often seems like something she has to consciously force herself to remember to do. I look at her face: she looks terrified and eager in equal measure.
She starts to move about a little and begins to push against my finger, hips gently grinding. I am rubbing Thia’s erect, moist, turned-on, little clitoris and she is pushing it at me!
Before long (perhaps ten minutes) she starts to move about a lot more strongly. All over. And moan and sigh and gasp – disconcertingly loudly!
Gosh! – I must be good at this, says my ego.
She still looks like a frightened rabbit though, with huge eyes. The tension in her body builds and builds, and builds. Shakes become spasms and shudders, her breathing is now very fast and shallow and it often stops altogether. Her entire vulva feels glowing hot and swollen. And very wet. Her hips grind around. She is obviously going to have an orgasm really soon – has she had one before? Surely she has? Hasn’t she? Does she actually realise what is about to happen? For that matter, do I?!
The questions are answered a few moments later.
Thia’s breathing becomes a staccato of forced, sharp, irregular, snatched, small breaths that quickly increase in rate and depth, like someone about to have the mother of all sneezes. Her hips wriggle and writhe and push, almost taking her clitoris from my fingertip. Her face flushes even further, to a deep, bright red.
Suddenly, her whole body goes stiff and – after she inhales a huge lungful of air – her breathing actually stops. She arches her back, losing contact with the bed from her shoulders to her feet. Then she crashes back down and her legs shoot straight out, rising slightly from the bed (so her feet are now in the air, a few inches off the mattress) and locking into trembling solidity, like someone having an enormous early morning stretch. She stays otherwise utterly motionless, silent and without breathing (while I am still stroking the vital point), her whole body now absolutely rigid but shaken by jolts, for one second, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds, five seconds, six seconds. And then…
BOOM!!
She releases the huge lungful of air she’s been holding, but instantly gasps in another one before letting out a noise that sounds like someone being squeezed to death – a prolonged “Aaarrgghhhh!” which stutters briefly at first but then becomes steady and clear (and loud!). Her body contorts as if it has been wired to the mains – convulsing, threshing, uncontrollably lashing about. She lets out short, sharp pulses of moans, rapid panting and gulps. Then there’s one endlessly elongated moan, as her thighs grip tightly onto my hand (still moving a finger gently about on her clitoris tip) and almost crush it. Her knees shoot up and then back down again. Her legs lock together, then flail apart and snatch this way and that. Her back arches again from the bed, then thumps back into it before arching up again. Her head threshes from side to side and her eyes roll right up and away. She lets out a loud “Oh!” and repeats it several times. Her hands grip hard into the bedding. Her breaths are taken in urgent gasps and gulps.
Thia is completely out of control and overwhelmed – seemingly engulfed by an enormous, violent and intense, whole-body orgasm.
This all continues unabated for several minutes. Yes, minutes! On and on and on it goes without diminishing at all.
Crikey, this is quite something! How long should I carry on? Surely she’ll stop in a moment? Won’t she? Will she? Surely she must? Mustn’t she? Is she okay? I’d better stop. Just a few more seconds… No, I really will have to stop. Any time now. Must I? Should I? Is this normal? What if she doesn’t stop, or can’t stop? I’d better stop. Does she want me to stop? Does she need me to stop? I really should stop? Or should I? Is she even conscious anymore? Am I meant to just stop?
I stop, and extract my finger and crushed hand. The orgasm sails on! But then, after perhaps another ten seconds or so, it begins to subside. Eventually, thank goodness, it seems to be ending.
However … Thia is a terrified-looking, twitching, jumping, wide-eyed, empty shell. Even now, she looks as if she’s still undergoing some sort of fit; so much fizzing, uncontrolled energy is still surging through her that it seems almost dangerous to touch her, as if doing so would give me a huge electric shock. She looks as if her brain has exploded. (But in a good way, I try in vain to convince myself.)
After further long, long seconds, the orgasm is definitely fully spent and the twitching and jolts diminish significantly. However, Thia really does look like she’s in some trouble – medical trouble. She is shaking like a leaf, with the occasional violent whole body tremor thrown in. She looks shocked, shattered, stunned – a molten-brained wreck.
She tries to say something, but can’t speak. She can’t really listen to, or follow, anything I say. Then she starts to shake even more fiercely. She shakes and she shakes and she shakes. Hands, arms, legs, body, head … shake, shake, shake, shake, shake. Her eyes dart about. She chokes and gulps when she tries to speak.
On and on and on this goes. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Okay, this is properly worrying now. This definitely isn’t normal and feels really dangerous.
In the end, I somehow manage to get her tights and pants on her and pulled back up (with almost no assistance from her at all) and help her to stand. No words have been spoken by Thia since we first lay on the bed, more than half an hour ago. I ask her repeatedly if she is okay, but all she can do is stare wildly, look at me and shake. Eventually – at long, long last – the question elicits a very shaky nod of acknowledgement.
A few minutes later, I tell her we had better go for a bit of a walk outside in the snow to help her to calm down. And that’s what we do (with a lot of difficulty, as she can barely even stand at first) with me pretty much holding her up for the first few minutes as she staggers about.
Should I get help? Maybe I should take her to hospital, or even call an ambulance. Maybe her orgasm has caused a stroke or some sort of seizure. Maybe she’s epileptic and hasn’t told me. Is it safe to wait and see if she recovers?
Mind you, however this turns out, I think it’s pretty obvious I have just given Thia her very first orgasm, and it was absolutely HUGE! How cool is that?! 🙂
Half an hour later she is a lot more coherent but still being hit by intermittent shaking attacks. And it is now way past time for me to take her home to her mum and dad!
I take her home in my car. By the time we arrive (fifteen more minutes) she is thankfully largely herself again, superficially at least, and can speak (although not fully coherently), but she’s still randomly shaking, wide-eyed and half-stunned! Thank God it is very cold, so she will be able to blame the shaking on that, with a bit of luck. (Of course she will – like her parents were born yesterday…)
Now THAT is an orgasm!
Needless to say, once my alarm at Thia’s plight subsides, this all leaves me feeling very pleased with myself indeed. In fact it almost makes up for having to go to the theatre! Ha ha. This, though, is tempered by the fact that I honestly did think that I would have to take her to hospital and that she might have been permanently damaged by it – imagine explaining that to her mum and dad!
And while one might reasonably expect that Thia might be a bit wary of ever repeating such a scenario, she immediately embraced the whole activity with relish!
But that’s another story…
Imagine what this did for my reputation! “There’s James, who gave his girlfriend such a huge orgasm that she nearly ended up in hospital!”
One or two girls in my work group became very chummy indeed with me, once this got out!
…Heaven knows how people found out about it. Ahem…
So there you go. I dare say you will feel like you know Thia quite a bit better after reading that!
Much, much later, we established that Thia is what is sometimes called super-orgasmic. She sometimes has unusually powerful, hyper-intense orgasms, often involving her whole body. They can last a long time (for example, one has bubbled away for an hour, at almost peak intensity almost continuously, pretty much without interruption) and/or be numerous (seventeen, one after another after another [vibrator], was an extreme example of one we decided to count: outlandish, but true, and they only stopped because we felt it had all gone on long enough…).
Sometimes I find it fun to ask her questions while it’s happening – she can often manage to at least say yes or no. On such occasions, the orgasms are often stopped only by choice; they can still be going strong when she calls an exhausted halt. It seems that sometimes they will keep going indefinitely, for as long as the stimulation continues, as looks to have been the case on that first, very dramatic occasion.
Afterwards, Thia is often quite drunk, or at least very tipsy (oxytocin, serotonin). For someone who dislikes the effects of alcohol, it’s quite curious to see how much she seems to enjoy the same effect when it’s been caused by this alternative method.
Incidentally, some people with these characteristics have suffered strokes and similar medical events as a result, so it does seem that she had a very close call on this first occasion. Fortunately, things did tone down – just a little – from then on.
But not much!