Orgasmic—adjective—able to achieve orgasm or able to induce orgasm.
Orgasmic—something that makes you feel as good as or better than when you have an orgasm.
Above are two dictionary definitions of the word ‘orgasmic’ and I’m sure there are plenty more to be found… We all know what we mean when we say something’s orgasmic, don’t we? It’s fucking good! So good, we crave it, want it again, want more of it, sometimes can’t think of anything else. But what interests me as an erotica writer is:
Is your ‘orgasmic’ the same as my ‘orgasmic’?
By which I don’t mean do you find eating a certain brand of chocolate in the bath orgasmic, or a certain cocktail in a certain bar with a certain person orgasmic? We all have our own individual triggers that cause us to feel something is as good as or better than an orgasm. But what I wonder is whether it’s conjuring up the same tingling feelings inside you as it is inside me or him or her or them?
Do all orgasms feel the same?
The answer to that, at a very base level, is obviously no. Male and female orgasms are substantially different for the most obvious reasons. And we all experience orgasms of different intensities, set off by different activities focusing on different parts of our body. If you read descriptions written by women of what it feels like to orgasm, you might be forgiven for thinking you’re reading about a completely diverse series of experiences.
Where am I going with this?
As you know, I write erotica. This means I write, on a daily basis, explicit descriptions of individuals having sex. I write about sex of all types—vanilla and kinky, m/f, m/m, f/f, vaginal, anal, oral, masturbation—the list could go on, but I think I’ve given you the picture.
And that means, I end up describing an awful lot of orgasms. Orgasms that are by necessity based upon my own experience of sexual climax. That’s all I’ve got to go on because obviously I haven’t experienced (internally, at least!) anybody else’s climax.
I try to write most days but I don’t always manage it. But say I write five days a week, I might be describing, in detail, three or four orgasms a week—obviously some days I’m writing the scenes leading up to the sexual encounter and the orgasm won’t have happened yet, other days I might be penning a multiple! But let’s guesstimate three or four per week. (Yes, there will be plenty of you out there writing more sex than me but, look, it’s not a competition—I’m perfectly satisfied with three or four a week!)
About 200 orgasms a year. Described in detail.
In some cases, it’ll just be a physical description of one of my characters having an orgasm—if I’m not in their point of view, it’s easier to describe—literally, just what their body does as they come. But in point of view, the writer has to describe not only the physical sensations as they pass through the character’s body but also the feelings, thoughts, emotions or temporary absence of them as the person comes.
It’s somewhat easier for me, as a woman, to describe an orgasm from the female perspective. If I’m writing from a male point of view, my imagination has to work that much harder, while drawing more on men’s descriptions of how they feel when they come. I’ve written a few m/f stories from the male viewpoint and several m/m stories and a novella, and so far nobody’s called me out on my descriptions of male orgasm (wonders if any men have read them…).
But approximately 200—that’s a lot of climaxing to keep fresh and different. I try to do this without using clichés—crashing waves, fireworks exploding—and I try to do it without being repetitive. But truth be told, if you lined up my annual tally in a row next to each other you’d probably find both clichés and repetition. After all, 200 orgasms! How unique can they all be?
Here are a couple of examples. In the first one, it’s easy-her orgasm from his point of view, so just the purely physical. In the second one, we’re inside the character’s mind.
But a spanking wasn’t what Harry had in mind. As she lay gasping for breath on the bed, he gently spread her legs and crouched down behind her. The deep red folds of flesh between her legs glistened with her juices. He easily slipped two fingers inside her. She whimpered at his incursion, raising her hips so he could push deeper into her. Harry knelt up and, by reaching round to the front of her, he located her clit with his other hand. It was already swollen, a hard nub of flesh nestling in a velvet cocoon. Inside her, his fingers located the yielding softness of her G-spot. He flexed and pulsed against both her trigger points at once. In a few seconds her body went rigid, as a deep moan bubbled up from the back of her throat. She clenched around his fingers, her hips pressing forward to grind against his other hand. He tugged on her clit, dropping his head to kiss the welts on her back. She came again almost instantly, her body melting as she emitted a soft sigh.
A tug with her hand guided him in and then – deep inhale – she had what she needed: Colt’s fierce thrust stretching her open, pushing its way into her and sending a sharp-edged thrill from her cunt to her brain.
He started working in and out, backward and forward, and Bradie raised her legs to encircle his waist, pushing him in further by pressing his back down with her calves. Colt moaned as his mouth found one of her breasts and when his teeth anchored on her nipple, Bradie matched his moan and arched her back underneath him.
Fast and deep was what Bradie needed and it was what Colt gave her. It didn’t take long for both of them to reach the brink; slow, languorous love making would be for another time. This was born out of need on both their parts; fierce, intense desire which had to be sated quickly. With a shout, Colt came. His mouth let go of her breast and he arched up high above her, pushing harder with his final thrust. Inside, despite the condom, Bradie felt a hot surge at the end of his cock and the pulses along its shaft. His climax brought her to her own nirvana and she allowed herself to be swept away by the sensation; powerful spasms radiated from her cunt throughout her body, making her cry out loud as she anchored her hands in Colt’s hair.
To a certain extent it’s describing the indescribable, the incomparable, the orgasmic…
Man, it’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it!