On the heels of my last blog on “hot man cum,” ah, well, those of you who know me should know by now how my brain tends to work, going from pondering whether or not ejaculated sperm is really hot to the touch to trying to describe what it feels like to suffer the little death.
I’m no master wordsmith… but I think I do okay with words but this is one of those things that I know how it feels… I just can’t accurately describe it, taking what is a rather complex set of sensations and thoughts and relegating the description to ‘simple’ words like intense or good (with appropriate curse words attached for further emphasis).
It goes along with trying to describe what it feels like to be fucked, eaten, or sucked; you know what it feels like but if someone were to ask you how it felt, well, shit, don’t we all kinda fumble for the appropriate adjective in our heads, touching exactly how we felt… and wind up saying, “It felt good?”
As a writer of erotica, I try very hard to capture that moment with my characters, kinda like getting inside the head of someone before, during, and after the fact. So when I make a character cum, I’ve often deleted whole paragraphs devoted to that moment because while I can think about how it feels, when I see it in writing, ugh; surely someone with my level of education and life experience can come up with a better description of the moment!
Not that any of this is ripping around through someone’s mind when they’re about to get shoved over the edge, right? Well, wait… sometimes my mind goes there; there’s a clinical part of my mind that never gets horny or anything like that and is, for whatever reason, paying attention to what’s about to happen, again taking what is a complex set of thoughts and feelings and simplifying them to, “This shit feels good!”
A former lover once asked me what was going on in my head right before I came and while it was happening… and I couldn’t answer them. Oh, it’s not that I didn’t know; it’s like my brain got to the moment of release and said, “Oh, shit!” – then just shut the fuck down, almost as if coherent thinking has to take a back seat to the primal mindlessness of that particular moment.
Even as I write this, the old noodle is running every moment I’ve cut loose in the background… and the best I can come up with is that it’s often very intense and, oh, yeah, it feels good. Now I’ve had reason to really pay attention to that moment, courtesy of hypersensitivity left behind by the stroke; if I have a very hard time trying to put into words how it usually made me feel, I really cannot put into words what having an orgasm and/or busting that nut feels like; it makes the word ‘intense’ sound trivial; it makes that ‘Fourth of July” thing some people mention seem like very dim lights. Although I’ve never been shot with a Taser, I’m kinda guessing that what I feel at that moment feels like being Tased or, worse, a neural short-circuit.
When I busted my first nut, I thought I was dying and it really scared the shit out of me (not literally though)… which is pretty much how it feels today, now that I think about it. It also serves to remind me that there’s nothing anyone can teach you about sex that will prepare you for that first orgasm/release and even the experts are reduced to describing it – and rather flowery I might add – as a good and/or wonderful feeling.
But that’s not it exactly…
It just occurred to me that there may be women reading this who’ve never had the experience of an orgasm so they may be thinking along the lines of not really missing something they’ve never felt… but I feel kinda safe in pointing out that if such a woman did say this and then somewhere along the line experienced one, she’d be hard-pressed to describe how it felt.
What I’ve not figured out is why it feels the way it does, um, I mean other than it feeling good… except sometimes when it’s happening, er, that’s not exactly how it feels. I’d like to think that our biology adapted itself to come up with this indescribable feeling for some reason that, over the history of human beings, wound up being described as feeling good, for lack of better words.
I know that when I write, I use every adjective I can think of and even manage to come up with a few that makes Word go, “Hey, that’s not a word!” I can write a paragraph or two about being in that moment, think of all the adjectives I can think of – then re-read what I wrote and say to myself, “No, that’s not quite it; it’s kinda like that… but not really accurate…”
It’s something that can make the most eloquent speaker look like a babbling idiot; it can make people who are certain of the way they feel very uncertain about it and all because they know exactly what it feels like… but there are just no words that does the feeling any justice.
I mentioned this a while back but comparing it to dying is actually a lot closer to the truth, given that in that moment, respiration is either way up or ya gotta remember to breathe; blood pressure is up, pulse is tap-dancing all over the place and body chemistry levels are totally out of whack; I remember reading somewhere that a person experiencing orgasm/ejaculation display all the medical symptoms of someone having a heart attack.
Yeah! That’s what it feels like… but not quite; it feels good… but not really…
Going back to watching it snow now…