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Travels to Bliss of a G-Spot Orgasm

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Come, my dear Larisaa, to Southern California. Come to this lotus land where we will wander and explore and play. Come bring your Siren voice and lead me astray. Come here and let us incarnate our words into the flesh. Come here for your Muses' inspiration.

I long for the moment when--after you have been kissed a thousand times and a thousand times more--you will be as we have imagined again and again in our writings: nude and spread open, playing with yourself, as I read aloud to you, when naked and fully aroused, a favorite passage from our correspondence....the passage that maps out for you the geography of the g-spot and the chart we will follow when, in some motel room bed, by the ocean near San Onofre, on its simple white linen sheets, I will take you on your maiden voyage to the pacific bliss of a g-spot orgasm.

Imagine yourself, after having been kissed and whispered to beautifully by me, instinctively spreading open your legs as I let my tongue travel its favorite paths down your body, leaving behind your lips with a kiss goodbye and then branching off to nibble your ear lobe and go along your neck, moving slowly as this is a joyride, a scenic tour. My tongue will climb up the hills of your bosoms with ease and then circle around the promonotory point of each nipple and bring each tip to its raspberry-ripe fruition, your nipples now standing up before my eyes like some mountain peak losing its cloud cover in the late morning sun.

My tongue is hesitant to leave this spot, but it feels itself getting late for its destination, so it quickens its pace and coasts along the soft incline of your body until it comes to a favorite place, like traveling down the Mississippi and coming to its delta and discovering there, as the river branches off in all directions, a special night spot in the city of New Orleans, a place of many small streets, and as the tongue walks these streets, it hears the sounds of wonderful jazz coming from one location, and the tongue spreads open the doors of this place and takes a seat as it watches a beautiful jazz singer take the stage, and my dear Larissa, your clit will be for me this jazz singer, and when we are together, I will do everything I can to make it sing beautifully, in all its ranges, in all its styles of voice.

I will also teach it a new song, a new tune: As I watch you play with it with finger or vibrator, or as I tongue it lightly, gently myself, my middle finger will slip just inside the opening of your cunt, and it will lightly stroke and press up against this little spongy part of your pussy, a little cumulus cloud inside of you, high up on your inside front wall, and my finger will feel charged with electricity, a mini-lightning bolt, and my finger pad will stroke and circle around this little cloud, making it more moist, and your entire body will be flushing with heat, as humid and hot as New Orleans in August, and as your clit begins singing to me in a deeper, more guttural voice, a bluesy Janis Joplin voice, I will enter you with two fingers and each of them will start stroking and sliding up and down your spongy spot, and you will feel a mix of intense pleasure and confusion, not knowing whether to come or to pee, but you will resist coming and relax completely about the need to pee, and though I will feel you craving to come and convulse around my fingers, I will slow them down, downshifting from a fast dance to a very slow dance.

And now my dear Larissa, I will be lying along side you, kissing you at times, as my fingers reach deep inside you and extend to their full length, and at the tip of my fingers I will feel something like a small water balloon, and I will gracefully massage and tickle a bit this spot, and then my eyes will take on a new intensity as they look at you and my kisses will become more passionate, and I will start giving you with my fingers deep inside your pussy the "come hither" motion, curling my fingers back and up along the top wall of your cunt, letting them caress, as they glide by, the spongy spot.

I will begin this motion legato but keep increasing the tempo, and your body will begin writhing around in the agony and ecstasy of this pleasure, and I will be holding and kissing you tight, as I take you with my fingers to fortissimo, and you will feel a thunderstorm brewing in your cunt, with thunderous rumblings and jagged chain lightning strikes creasing through it, your whole body shot through with camera flashes of sheet lightning, and then with your hands clasped behind your head and your back arching forward into a more rounded curve, you will begin rocking with me, hips pushing into my fingers, the two of us urging each other on to increase the pace.

Then my fingers will stroke you fast inside and out, and then give you squeeze after squeeze against the spongy spot, pressing up against your clit from the underside as you press down upon it with your fingers, and then all hell will break loose as the thunderstorm begins, your whole body surrendering its moisture, its wetness, every river bank giving way, every levee bursting open, every dam breaking as you pour forth and release your love-liquid, your pussy coming like some dancing fountain, your cunt squirting forth pulsating streams of its liquefied nectar, your back arching in double rainbows of ecstasy, your eyes tearing in ecstatic joy.

The rest is silence....or the sunshine coming after a thundestorm has cleared an August day of its humidity.

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