I believe this. I’ve witnessed it. I’ve experienced it. An utterly euphoric and captivating moment that opened my eyes to the cataclysmic event otherwise known as the full body orgasm that we created right there on the top floor of Marco Pierre White’s roof garden in Birmingham. By ‘we’ I refer to Ms. H, a dear friend of mine who wanted to embark on a journey with me down this tantalisingly delightful rabbit hole of sexual exploration.
It all started when I stumbled across a video demonstrating the beauty and power of Tantric massage – this for me was an Isaac Newton moment. A light was switched on and it was glowing with the possibility of potential. The potential to be so connected, so in tune with yourself and others that you could literally channel your sexual energy back and forth on a mental plane that is seldom explored by the carnal mind.
You’ll have to forgive my grandiose preamble but it really was that fucking awesome.
As we sat in the roof garden drinking Gin and Tonic and Vodka Martinis with her legs wrapped around mine, I slowly stroked the side of her waist as she became increasingly aroused. I was both instigator and spectator and I had a front row seat to the most captivating spectacle I’d witnessed in a long time. I slowly turned her up like a dial whilst we instinctively tuned out the two couples sitting directly opposite us. Void of the social etiquette that would usually cause one to refrain from inducing an eye rolling orgasm in clear view of onlookers, we embraced the rabbit hole as she fought with white knuckles and long nails clawing as my leg in an attempt to subdue the intensity.
Her attempts were futile, and I was the devil. Slowly tempting and corrupting whilst maintaining my look of innocence as I leaned back in my chair and watched her head swaying back and forth. Deep breaths and muted moans registered in the subconscious of the bemused onlookers, who we’re trying not to look. I tuned them out and focused on Ms. H who was experiencing the waves of one of the most beautiful orgasms I’ve ever witnessed – based purely on touch and the power of our connection.
When Ms. H eventually came round she felt a sudden rush of embarrassment which I was definitely not going to allow. With my hand wrapped firmly around her throat I told her in no uncertain terms to embrace it with her head held high. Her porcelain complexion turned a warm hue as she digested the reality of the situation. She was perplexed – she had an overwhelming feeling of intense satisfaction and wellbeing coupled with the bashfulness of her flagrant disregard for social etiquette on the 25th floor.
So proud of her I was – probably the wrong choice of words but in all honesty that’s how I felt. I was and still am somewhat in ore of her ability to let go and embrace her sexuality to such an extent. What manner of creature have we nurtured!
If sex is mental which I believe it is, this rabbit hole just got a lot fucking deeper.
Ms. H, you’re awesome.