UnderRated: Fucking the Mind
I have only just begun to discover exactly how many different types of orgasm can be achieved in a relationship where there is such a huge level of respect, love and enthusiasm.
Clitoral, vaginal, Gspot... all in varying degrees and forms of intensity and connection. And, with my impending Menopause, I have learned to appreciate all of them so much more deeply, because they are so much harder to obtain than once they were. The physical stimulation required is so much greater.
But now I recognise that the most stunning has to be the Mind orgasm.
When I was less appreciative, I'm not sure I was truly aware of the full intensity of this beautiful thing. It was always a precursor to something bigger and flashier, so it sort of got lost along the way, because it involved less energy from all parties and, therefore, seemed less significant.
The body is held together with a layer of tissue called the fascia. If you look in anatomy books, they tend to strip this away to show all the muscles individually beneath. But the fascia is vitally important. It wraps around and interconnects with everything forming a huge sheath that keeps everything in place. If you pull on it in one area, there is an effect somewhere else. Almost the same as if you tug on a carrier bag, you can see the contents shifting in response.
There is an exercise that involves lying on your back and then twisting one leg over the other which pushes you half onto your side. In tests on cadavers, this position has been shown to produce a massaging effect on the brain. It is certainly a very relaxing and pleasurable posture, presumably because it encourages the release of endorphins.
Sometimes when Ruf and I make love, this is what it feels like. As if the continual gentle friction of his penetration and withdrawal stimulates the fascia to contract against my brain and the subsequent overwhelming feeling of peaceful bliss is too difficult and wonderful for words to adequately describe.
I guess part of it is because we are truly making love. Kissing and stroking. Caressing and cuddling. Naked skin and hair, smooth and rustling against each other. No part of one untouched by the other, I can feel his genuine care for me wrapping me up, just as surely as his arms enfold me. His words whispering verbal affirmations as he slides in and out of me over and over again until there is no denying that I am almost floating on the depth of his appreciative desire.
The mutual connection and energy being exuded overlapping and encasing us. I can hear myself moaning softly. Not for this the frantic, strident shrieks of a physical explosion, but a gentle gasping as the pressure builds inside my head and then melts through my body, warm and satisfying.
Totally secure in the knowledge that I have been thoroughly loved.