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Going for the K.O.

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Going for the K.O.
by Norman
Masturbation has always been an important part of my sex life. And, without a doubt, the "Main Event" in my painfully normal existence occurred during the fall of my 22nd year. In college I fell hopelessly in love with an exciting blonde art student. She had a beautiful face and a trim, well proportioned figure. By that I mean she was long-legged and short waisted, which made the short skirts she always wore appear to be even shorter. Mutual masturbation was central to our intimate time together. At first it wasn't very fulfilling for me because she was clueless in the fine art of manual stimulation. I asked her to concentrate on the ridge to my glans during the early moments, and to move down the shaft later on. I've always preferred the long, growing, blossoming orgasms resulting from this technique to the explosive, all too brief climaxes that are a part of "hangin' on the head." She was a quick study and became quite good in a short time.
After commencement I went on to graduate school at a different college. She still had one year remaining, so I made a point of visiting her on weekends. My buddy lived alone in a funky old house trailer well off the beaten path. This made a perfect location for us to "refresh our relationship." Many nights, he would study ardently to music at the living room end of the trailer while she and I were behind closed doors at the bedroom end.
On the weekend in question, she was on her period and slightly ill from other causes as well. So when we closed the door to the world on that Saturday night we had no lists of priorities or little games to play. We were there for only one reason: to make sure that I felt an orgasm. The selfless willingness of her participation in this escapade really turned me on. I lay on my back with a clanging, throbbing erection that I hadn't experienced before (or since). It felt as though I was two inches longer than normal. I wasn't, of course, but I was fully engorged and noticeably thicker. I've never been one to reach orgasm quickly, so she didn't lie next to me the way she usually did in order to keep her arm from tiring. As I said, we only had one priority tonight. She sat Indian style between my legs and intertwined her fingers into a double fist. It was odd having her out of reach where I couldn't kiss or fondle her. But she was making sure that I felt what I needed to feel so it only added to the excitement.
She began spontaneously, surprisingly, by rubbing the shaft only in very short, very gentle strokes, purposely avoiding my ridge. This wasn't at all according to plan and I couldn't imagine such an approach working. But as I contracted my muscles to "help out" and began thrusting and bucking to her rhythm, I sensed that this was going to be something very special. I ached for her to quicken her strokes, or squeeze harder, or something, but her refusal only added to my pleasure.
After a laughably short time, I was at the doorstep of what, clearly, was going to be a profound moment. When she recognized that my orgasm was inevitable, she made a ring with her thumb and finger. She couldn't completely encircle my raging erection, but she covered must of it. She slid the ring upward until it gently contacted my ridge and then held her hand completely still. I had stopped moving as well and we were both motionless as I erupted into a monumental orgasm. I ejaculated three or four long streams, then a few tiny dollops and spurts, and then went dry. But my orgasm continued. She had done everything backwards from the way I taught her, but she avoided all the turn-offs and the surprise and unexpected freshness of it just drove me crazy. I was racked with several more delicious spasms. My orgasm grew to be so intense that it was becoming annoying if you can imagine such a thing. I actually began tensing my muscles to try to stop it. After two or three more outrageous spasms I finally subsided, completely and deliriously spent.
Surprisingly, the next image is the one I remember the most. It's as clear in my mind as if it happened yesterday. I can see her crawling towards my face wearing a serious, thoughtful expression. She was making herself available for me to kiss her if I needed to. She smiled briefly and said in a tiny baby voice, "You made a big mess." I thudded my feeble arms around her awkwardly and kissed her deeply with complete gratitude. Jets of air blasted spasmodically from my nostrils. It was the only communication I was capable of at the moment.
When I finally regained my composure she was deep in thought as if on another planet. I asked her what was on her mind. She made a few attempts to speak which trailed off in confusion. Then she said that I had been really swollen tonight and that it was kind of spooky. And she couldn't imagine how it would feel to have something that huge come so hard for so long. there were more confusing little starts and she finally just said, "oh, wow."
We were engaged but never married and I haven't seen her for almost thirty years. Our legacy, I suppose, is that I've been going for the K.O. ever since. The obvious reference is to the term Knock Out, but there's another meaning as well. Her name was Kay and I've been trying to recapture "Kay's Orgasm" both by myself and through other lovers. I've come close a time or two, but I guess unexpected surprises only really happen once.



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