We had been fucking for a good 15 minutes already, and I already came once before “it” happened. He hit that cotton candy sweet as gold spot, and I felt the sudden urge to … pee. Gah. The only other person to make me feel this awkward sensation was Thor, and just like with him I ruined the moment to use the restroom. Of course I didn’t really have to go. Instead, I just sat there twiddling my thumbs and giving my vagina a pep talk. I walked back into the room like the girl who cried wolf.
“I didn’t need to go,” I said with a tinge of embarrassment. “I knew you didn’t,” he replied. Shit. Did I miss the memo?
Apparently, this feeling is a precursor to squirting. I wouldn’t know, because everytime I’ve felt it, I would somehow find a way to momentarily stop having sex. Until one week. And I must admit, I was a little disappointed. I actually let myself go past that feeling expecting to release the floodgates, but there was no need to grab floaties or change the sheets afterwards. I’m not sure what it’s supposed to feel like, but it felt like that feeling right before one orgasms. Just extended.
So if I didn’t squirt, what the fuck did I do? It’s almost as if my mind subconsciously programmed my body to reject the feeling, and I know I said the idea of squirting is gross. But I will admit, I’m kind of intrigued. Especially, since it seems as if most men don’t mind. Honestly, I’m a little bummed. I was expecting rainbows, and waterfalls. Maybe I should just stick to the rivers and the lakes that I’m used to.