The male orgasm is like a tremor, halting eventually if not quickly, and in a single inhalation delivers into ecstasy then restfulness, exhausted.
But the female orgasm, initiated with an aching, is the beginning of a chasm of conflicted turns, that when it passes, her desires have only just been awakened. And instead of engendering fulfillment they consume her entirely with indescribable yearning, a passion for fierce imbuement, a screaming devotion that tosses and turns inflamed—take me completely com!plete!ly! please please please!—until the drive, subdued, evaporates in clarity of flight.
A satisfaction only in shattering, being consumed into existence.
4 thoughts on “Finish”
Damn! Now I’m jealous. Although I think I may have almost had a female orgasm once or twice. Mostly the male ones, though. Yours sounds nicer!
LOL No, they’re cruel X_x
Do you see commonality between that, and the way you experience religion?