There was want and frustration…
…and then they were gone, replaced by the feeling my brain waves had been set to white noise.
What happened in between those points is blurry now. It was blurry then, even as it happened.
I remember bits and pieces of commands (or was I pleading?), repositioning him (or did he move me?), growling (or was it whimpers?), and a half-hearted ‘stop’ (or was ‘don’t stop’?).
I remember the first waves of an orgasm.
I remember warmth and wetness (was it his mouth? his hands? his cock?), friction (was I moving or was he?), and strangely, I recall being vaguely unaware of his body in relation to mine (was he beside me? under me? on top?).
I remember more waves of pleasure (aftershocks of the first orgasm? a second one?)
I remember tension and release and more tension and more pleasure (a third?)
And then I remember there was no more — no more tension and no release — just gentle warmth that radiated up to the top of my head and down to the tips of my toes.
I don’t know how much time passed.
I don’t know how many orgasms I had. (Was it was two? Maybe it was four? Maybe it was a string of overlapping little ones?) In the delightful, disorienting haze, I can’t recall when one ended and another one began.
It was just last night, but I can’t quite recall all the details. I’m not entirely sure what happened in between the wanting and the white noise before I drifted off to sleep.