A Purring Machine – 100 Orgasms

♦ I’m doing a little project that was suggested by the wonderful Bondara sex shop thanks to a very serendipitous misread of a title online. What project is this? Well, only to have 100 orgasms in 10 days and write some sexy things about my experiences .

It sounded ridiculous at first and then I thought, hey, that’s only ten a day. It’s totally doable and weirdly intriguing. So I mentally signed myself up. I hadn’t planned to start until the weekend but then I noticed: it’s apparently National Orgasm Day today. How could I not start today?

So, I shall be writing a series of different things about what I get up to in my quest for roughly ten orgasms a day. This blog post is the first. I don’t have a particular long-term plan in my head for this little series, as I’m quite looking forward to seeing what my orgasms inspire in me, what comes out if I go in with an open mind and a blank sheet.

Anyway, below is a bit of poetry based on orgasms one and two of 100: a wake-up wank on a dozy morning. Please let me know what you think!  2/100 ♦

Sleep seeps into my bones
Like hot water into a sinking teabag
My face is fire, eyes heavy, mind a cartwheel
Of wheeling bodies and sandbags

I haul myself to solitude, away from the buzz
Trudge and slump
My idle hand seeks to make a plaything of me
Hisses between white hills and grey cloud cover
To a slumbering country of pinks and troughs
Where it plays
Staccato rhythms, the lark ascending
My middle finger circles, a motorist on a starting handle
A dynamo whirring
Cranking, shooting a Tesla coil hum through my wires
Static shivers along once-sleeping skin

Or perhaps I play
The fireman to my traction engine
The stoker of my coals
I feed the furnace, steam seeps between my thighs
The boiler of my cunt builds and sends
Hot, damp power through my body
White fills my vision
My body shudders and shakes, reawakened
Reborn, renewed, replenished
Bolts fly from their housings
An engine explosion
A singing, ringing crescendo of steam and smoke and white-hot metal
A hissing hot leak

Fingerprints dance over sodden skin
An aftershock blooms large and causes
Tender flesh to tremble again
A second spike

Lightning: a modern Prometheus cries “Live!”
The fog of sleep lifts
Dawn hits and my nerves turn to busy industry
I wake for the first time since
Opening my eyes
And trundle, alert, a purring machine

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