Apotheosis : The High, Still Point of Orgasm
by Marcus Ratnathicam Nov 12, 2015
Climbing, climbing, up and up and up, my fingertip brushes her clit so lightly. She reaches, groans, re-arranging the tides to pull my finger in deeper in to her spot. I keep my finger steady, fortified to my hand, letting my fingertip do what it wants, anything so long as I don’t give in. Not yet.
Brushing, lightly, up and up and up. My body gently heats from the inside and as we ascend the heat spreads to my flesh and now everything is warm. Then the heat leaves my flesh and pushes against my skin, this thin layer of warm gel, the pressure building and then slowly, suddenly, seeping out. My pores open and the heat chills in the air, against my skin, my forearms. The light breeze of the room meets my body and my temperature returns to normal.
Up, up, up, we keep going. Lightly, lightly my finger nestled just below the ridge of her hood, on the left side, the pad gently nudging the hood back as I stroke up, and back, lightly. As I do so, her clit reaches further. I’m stroking fast, brushing. Up up up. Her clit is big now, round and full and vibrating. Up and up and up and the pitch of my stroke is matched with the volume of electricity circulating through my body. We’re so high and the air is thin and my lungs are nearly paralyzed in the momentum and...
My finger stops.
Electricity rushes out her clit and into my finger, and from my arm back in to her pussy. There’s no direction, it’s just… being.
Her groan that had risen to a moan that risen to a pitch now paused. Her mouth open wide, her being extended and suspended, dangling at the tip of my finger.
The air of the room touches my skin again but this time it is us that meets the air. Swinging, dangling at the top of everything. Perfection.