When we think of where we might find an exquisitely arousing experience – deep sexual satisfaction, visions of three ways, all-night sex marathons , incredibly attractive and skillful lovers, sexual acts that are particularly kinky or forbidden – or, other such visions of sexual interaction being more grande – stimulation more glutinous.
I still wait for something more spectacular, where I might experience a new level of orgasm, or a transcendent sexual experience – or just one that is as exciting and powerful as it was at first when sex was new; But, the moments of overwhelming arousal, when sexual interaction is deeply fulfilling, almost always come about in situations much less grand, and often too subtle and emotionally complex to imagine or look for: such moments a remarkable synchronicity of simple elements.
I’ve had a few experiences of the spectacular variety, but there’s only so good physical interaction can feel – and only so good a standard orgasm can be, and while a lot of the spectacular experiences produce optimal orgasms and maxed out pleasureful sensations, actual reward is always about the same – and not all that much more fulfilling than a good masturbation.
There are times when the limits are broken and sexual interaction is more than orgasm, when orgasms are more than orgasms even, but the ingredients needed to bake such experiences, seem less available in many of the more obvious scenarios. Perhaps the strongest experiences require a degree or type of sensitivity unable to service the sexual amplitude of extreme or “earth shattering” sexual interaction.
For example, there was an evening I write about in the next SSD book about a condo that I lived in for about a year – that I shared with the owner who rented me the room and another female tenant. Some crazy things happened during those condo days, but one of the most arousing and memorable experiences, was otherwise pretty unspectacular.
One night, while the landlord was away attending a work related conference, I hung out and drank with the other tenant – who had just become single too. The next night she got home late in the evening after hitting happy hour and dinner with friends after work . She talked to me in the kitchen for a few minutes, then tells me she’d be back up in a bit – wanted to get out of her work clothes. She returned wearing a very plain white nightshirt – something you’d get at the gap or target even – not Victoria secrets. But, it was just see through enough -her panties and nipples not being shown, but showing – and the discussion was just provocative enough – that one of those monumental experiences sprung up.
I can’t tell the story here – the point is, the building blocks of this encounter were very simple: a roommate, a basic, white cotton night shirt, by chance us both being there, newly single with landlord gone, and perhaps the spark – a bit of unexpected behavior in my housemate curiously choosing to wear such a normal yet immodest outfit.
That evening saw no three ways, spontaneous animalistic sex, circus equipment or even handcuffs, yet I can’t remember many times I’ve been more aroused and satisfied. It makes me realize that sexual satisfaction isn’t about being gotten off – it’s about being turned on – it’s about feeling numb with desire and arousal – and the situations that create these feelings are unexpected and complicated, rarely spectacular, and something in us yearns for them.
I’ve had a few wild and grande sexual encounters (by my square standards) – and they got me off hard – but none have made me so drunk with arousal, that I didn’t know the words I was speaking, or feel on the verge of risking all pride and consequence, trembling with desire, my heart pounding and heads throbbing, only needing an orgasm to stop the orgasming, when I could bare no more. The context surrounding such moments = so remarkable buy rarely spectacular.