Orgasms are great; I am a big fan of orgasms. It’s that final, exquisite agony of release as you let go, and the pressure and tension, quite literally, comes surging out.
Fantastic as orgasms are, however, they aren’t actually the best bit. For me, it’s the bit just before orgasm that is part I enjoy most. Whether I am with a partner or taking myself in hand, I will almost invariably attempt to draw those last wonderfully agonising moments out for as long as possible.
I know that the longer I can hold on, the longer I can deny myself, the more explosive, the more intense the sensations of my final release will be.
As the tension inside me grows, I vary the pace, slowing down slightly. When I’m on my own, I will loosen my grip as my cock begins to throb in my hand. I’ll lift my fingers from the shat and concentrate on the head with just my thumb and forefinger; stopping to squeeze occasionally if the need threatens to overwhelm me.
As the pressure builds, I can feel the insides of my thighs tighten, my abdomen contracts, my heart pounds and, no matter how hard and deeply I breath, I feel an almost oxygen deprived sense of light-headedness.
At this point my body takes over. If I am with a partner, it is now that I am fucking her most forcefully, taking her hard and deep. If I am on my own, my hand and cock are working in tandem. Release is now inevitable, only sheer willpower is holding me back.
A line is finally crossed; a final stroke of my hand, a final thrust inside my lover’s body, a final breaking of my resistance and relief washes over me as my climax ignites…