The Refractory Period Mf

1

I dislike the way I feel after orgasm.

I'll spend a night with a girl, and it is a steady build of interest, desire, and sense of connection-- all to evaporate in the instant of Orgasm.

And then I am left lying there with a girl I really like, no longer feeling connected, no longer feeling on the same wavelength.

The refractory period in males is a very real phenomenon. And I am at war with it.

I want the connection, I want the intimacy, I want the juice!

I want the passion; I want the want."

"I sing the body electric!"

2

I attempted to explain this all to my girlfriend at the time, Karen, and it weirded the fuck out of her.

Karen was a cute 5' 2'' skinny brunette hipster with a nose ring. At least on appearance. But she was also a very caring person studying to become a nurse, and was able to put her weirded-out-ness to the side, and help me with my war against the refractory period after sex.

Karen and I switched out our standard sexual practices for a subdued hodgepodge of touching and kissing and me eating pussy.

Luckily, I don't mind eating pussy. In fact, it really gets my blood going and my heart rate up.

Karen and I would wish and lightly touch for an hour, then I would conclude the session with my mouth, my penis always far away from the action.

After Karen and I had sex in this way twice, she was on board with my quest against the refractory period.

The hardest part about this new form of love is the blue balls I would feel lying in bed with Karen after I had gotten her off with my mouth. I was always so worked up, and it took a long time to come down.

Weirdly enough, you get used to blue balls. And Karen and I felt really connected with one another in this new form of love making.

One night, I was stroking Karen's mound with my face and tongue, and she begged and begged me to enter her.

We agreed that if we just held still and kissed, we could keep safe and away from orgasm.

I entered Karen, and it was the craziest sensation I have ever experienced in my life. After a couple of weeks with just blue balls and no release, my sex had the sensitivity of a virgin. We held still and kissed like this for ten minutes, when it became too much for me and I pulled myself out.

Karen quivered and moaned as I pulled out. I worked my mouth down her sputtering sensitive body.

Karen is really goofy when she orgasms. Her chest and face turn a deep shade of tomato red, and her breath becomes ragged and strained. On the verge of orgasm, Karen's breath sounds like heavy snoring, as she desperately tries to pull oxygen into her lungs.

My favorite thing to do when Karen is on the verge of orgasm is to stop whatever I'm doing and tease her endlessly.

"Are you ok, my ripe tomato?"

Or

"Are you alright, let me go and get your sleep apnea mask Karen.

This embarrasses her endless. She is very aware of her goofiness son the brink, and low-key embarrassed by it.

I just love to keep her balanced on the edge and let her wallow in the mixture of embarrassed self-consciousness and the ruin of orgasm.

I like to keep Karen off center, and a little bit embarrassed as she enters the throes of ecstasies.

Paradoxically, this frustration makes her even more desperate and horny. Making her face ever reader and her breath even more jagged.

Low key, I worry that she is going to have an asthma attack one day while she climaxes. I guess that would not be such a bad way to go.

3

Eventually, Karen and I got to the point where we could have sex for a prolonged period of time, and I had the self-control and restraint to always remove myself before orgasm.

Later, I discovered that I was not alone in my quest against the refractory period. I discovered that this is a somewhat common male practice called Karezza. Upon discovering this, I felt validated in my quest, and resumed it with new vigor.

Meanwhile, Karen and I were exceptionally close, and able to make love for much longer and to greater heights of ecstasies than before.

I never came, Karen came like crazy.

And for a time, my war against the Refractory period worked. I always felt deeply attracted and in tune with Karen. We grew closer and closer, and our love reached new profound heights-- both physically and emotionally. Our sex became so good that it was now Karen trying to initiate it every night, trying to get her hands inside my pants. Whereas, beforehand, it was usually me who would attempt to initiate sexy times.

4

All good things must come to an end.

Karen received a job offer in Chicago, and she told me that she was going to take it. The job offer was a good one. It effectively doubled her salary and moved her up the corporate ladder. I was for it. I want Karen to do well.

But I could not move with her. My job is still here. It seems our paths are beginning to drift. At the moment that Karen and I are the closest, fate seems to be attempting to wedge us apart.

Karen and I still had two weeks together. We made love like rabbits. We felt the brink of starvation approaching and gorged ourselves with one another.

Karen brought new things to the bedroom, wanting to experience before the opportunity had passed.

First Karen brought a blindfold to the bedroom. I blinded her and tasted every inch of her skin. The goosebumps on Karen's body were incredible, and she shivered with ecstasy for what seemed like hours. I finished the evening with my mouth against her mound. Karen wrapped herself around my lips and tongue. My hands danced up and down her body, while I nibbled and tasted her. Karen spasmed violently, and when I removed the blindfold, there were tears streaking down Karen's face. We then made love passionately, both of us on the verge of crying.

Next, Karen brought ropes and a vibrator to the bedroom. I roped Karen to the bed, spread out like an X. I then went to work on her, slowly, with the vibrator. I never gave her more than the tip of the vibrator, keeping it to the outside of her body. When Karen's face became red, and her breath became strained, only then I entered her. Karen strained against the bed and the ropes as I made love to her teasingly slow.

And like that, Karen was gone, off to the bright pastures of lawyer life in Chicago.

5

Karen and I didn't attempt to date long distance. We still talked to one another two or three times a week on the phone, just out of friendship and interest, but we allowed one another to date around.

I quickly entered into a string of loose relationships with older women.

For whatever reason, I seem to have a knack for attracting older ladies.

At the time I was a young 26-year-old yo-pro.

The first woman after Karen was a 35-year-old, short, skinny, Asian woman named Sara. Sara was 5' 1'' and exceptionally skinny. We met at a bar one night, and our affair began with the meeting of our eyes. In ten minutes, we were outside kissing, 30 minutes back at her place making love.

I did not orgasm the first night with Sara, and she was taken aback. I tried to explain to her my war against the refractory period, and she was weirded out. We made love again, making use of one another's bodies completely, and then she was on board.

Sara and I only met one another at Bars. We would get as drunk as possible in 30 minutes, and then scurry off home to fuck.

Sara's small body was very convenient and malleable. We fucked in positions and ways I had only seen in porn. What's more, I felt myself very large and confident with Sara-- very manly around her dainty frame.

Sara also orgasmed in a goofy fashion. For whatever reason, she always covered her face with her hands on the verge of orgasm. Like she was attempting to be polite and hide her face while eating.

Sara's body would then clench down and in, like she was doing a crunch. This peculiarity was very attractive. I could see the faint outlines of Sara's skinny abdominals tighten and clench in anticipation, which made me work harder to please her.

On the eve of orgasm, I would always remove Sara's hands from her face, pin them down to the sheets, and watch her body clench and writhe and tighten itself up.

There is one last peculiarity with Sara that is worth mentioning, she really got off to having her nipple squeezed. Squeezed hard. I could squeeze Sara's nipple with all my force, and still would not be enough for Sara. Still not enough pressure and pain. Sara has a very small, flat, boyish chest, with just the outlines of a mound. But when aroused, her nipples stick out straight a good inch or so. (In this way, I tease Sara: "your nipples are bigger than your chest." Which only serves to make Sara angry,

One night, during foreplay, all I did was lay on top of Sara, fully clothed, and squeeze her nipples through her white cotton blouse.

Sara panted and humped the shit out of me as I squeezed her. Sara writhed and orgasmed under my heavy body, both of us still fully clothed. That's how much Sara likes having her nipples squeezed.

6

Because of the age difference between Sara and I, we were not officially dating. We would just get drunk together and have wildly passionate drunken sex.

I was bummed out. I really liked Sara and thought we would be a good couple. I did not mind the age difference between us. But Sara did. It made her very self-conscious. We only ever drank at bars of the beaten path, where we would not be seen by friends or coworkers.

While still involved with Sara, I met another older woman named Nazanin.

Nazanin was a middle height, older Persian woman. Nazanin never told me her age, but she was definitely in her mid to late thirties.

Nazanin had very feline features, done up with make-up to be even more cat-like.

Nazanin was also a light smoker, and often tasted of perfume mixed with cigarettes.

It's hard to convey this scent feeling. Normally I do not like the smell nor taste of cigs, but on Nazanin's breath they drove me crazy. There was a taste of rebellion, a taste of the forbidden on Nazanin.

Penetration hurt Nazanin too much, and we only ever made love with our hands and mouths.

Nazanin was adept at this form of lovemaking, a real journeyman, or journeywoman.

Nazanin was also a pothead, and we always smoked a mixture of tobacco and marijuana before, and even while, we made love with our hands and mouths.

There was magic, the magic of ritualism and eroticism in the sharing of a cigarette with Nazian. It was a strange form of chemical foreplay. I found myself growing more and more excited as the nicotine and marijuana entered my blood, boiling it to a feverish pitch.

Nazian's hands were small and delicate, mind large and brutish. Perfect for one another.

Nazian's tongue was small and cat-like. Mine, wide and dog-like. Perfect for one anothers sensitive bits.

I am often amazed at how well designed the women's body is for the man, and how well designed the man's is for the woman.

Like two puzzle pieces falling in together, same with Nazian's body and mine.

7

Like this, four months went by, sporadically making love with my two older friends that happened to be girls.

. At some point both Nazanin and Sara drifted off and we never had sex again. I was all alone with myself. It was at this point that I really missed Karen.