How To Give An Orgasmic Hug
Gina not only showed me that a woman can have an orgasm from a hug but also taught me to love my depressions and my suicidal thoughts.
I didn’t know that some women can have an orgasm from a hug, but I found out when I hugged Gina the first time. As anyone can imagine, it was a great hug, but the circumstances were awkward. Gina and I had just been out on our first date, and she turned out to be a ‘screamer.’ Besides that, the hug took place in a shopping mall during rush-hour.
“Mmmmm …,” she said when I put my arms around her to say goodbye. As I realized that she and I had an intense bodily connection, I kept hugging her while putting one hand behind her head.
“Ahhhh… ahhh!” she moaned, rubbing her body eagerly against mine.
Her reaction was out of the ordinary, and I couldn’t help wondering if she was ok. Still, it felt amazing, and I couldn’t stop myself from intensifying the hug further. In response, she became rather loud while saying something to the extent of:
“Ahh… Uhm… Uh…. Hell! … Y-yes!”.
At this point, people in the mall started staring at us. In an everything-is-under-control-kind-of-way, I smiled at everyone while Gina was going through spasms, shouting:
”AAAAAHHHHHHH!!! YES!!!”
Next, she collapsed in my arms while I took a peek at the bystanders. Luckily there were no children around. Feeling sure nobody had been traumatized, I supported Gina out of the mall and into a taxi. When a mall security guard asked me if my friend was all right, I told him that Gina had had an epileptic seizure and that she would soon be ok.
Meeting a new woman and sensing our loving connection was a great and highly needed experience. When meeting Gina, my life was chaos on all accounts. Two of my friends had died the same year, my ex-wife and I had been through an extraordinarily painful divorce, and I had lost contact with my kids. Daily I was spending many hours fighting depression. I sometimes considered finding a girlfriend to ease my pain, but the women I met always turned out to be in at least in as much pain as myself. Pain attracts pain, and the few times I had opened my heart, it had been the beginning of an emotional earthquake of apocalyptic dimensions. This had naturally made me very careful, but Gina was clearly different and much more resourceful than all the others. Besides being beautiful, intelligent, and sexually very open-minded, she and I had chemistry way past the point of explosion. Gina not only had everything when it came to looks, brains, and orgasms but also played the piano, was an elite dancer, singer, and cartoonist. As I got to know her better, she even turned out to be a wizard in the kitchen while also revealing around 200 other hobbies, passions, and talents. After seeing her a few more times, we were both lovestruck. Sensing the butterflies, I invited her for a romantic vacation to Greece. When we arrived at a luxury hotel on a small island, we were both ready for two weeks of intense romance. If I had known what was in store for me at that time, I might just have jumped in the ocean from the nearest beach, trying to escape by swimming to the next island.
During the first evening, Gina and I went out for dinner, but the attraction between us was too extreme to handle. After quickly consuming the starter, we left the rest of the dinner and hurried back to the hotel before running through the lobby to our room. Barely had we closed the door behind us before we were both more or less undressed. As I lifted her, she pressed her lips against mine, and at that moment, I was so turned on that everything else, but my sexuality was turned off. Passionately I threw her on the bed and was over her in a flash.
“Please don’t ever stop!” she shouted as I penetrated her. “If you withdraw, I will become very, very sad!”
I didn’t understand what she was talking about but didn’t worry much about it at that point. For the next hour, we were both lost in passion, but as I was ready to withdraw, she stopped me.
“I asked you NOT to withdraw,” she reprimanded me.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “It’s great making love to you, but we can’t continue forever. I just need a little break.”
“We have to continue,” she said, and suddenly her voice sounded like the voice of a little girl. “It cannot stop! It needs to continue.”
“Are you joking?” I asked, not knowing what to do. Slowly I started to withdraw, but she pushed herself forward, locking her legs around me. Her eyes full of fear.
“Please don’t ever do that again!” she barked.
As she continued to speak with the voice of a little girl, my erection vanished. Not knowing how to react, I quickly withdrew before sitting on the side of the bed, looking at her. In response, tears started flowing from her eyes, and her face changed to a grimace of extreme sadness.
“You are just like all the others!” she shouted.
“Can you please explain what I did wrong?” I asked while she was sobbing. “I can’t stay inside you forever. At some point, we need to go outside the hotel room.”
While I was speaking, she stayed in bed with her face down, crying. It took almost an hour before she could talk.
“I once opened myself up to a man with whom I had sex,” she explained. “When he withdrew, he left without a word, and I never saw him again.”
As a consequence of what had happened in Gina’s past, I could not withdraw sexually without triggering a trauma of incalculable proportions. As our conversation continued, I thought what I had just experienced was terrible, but this first trauma turned out only to be the tip of the iceberg. During the next few days, I realized that Gina not only had 200 talents, hobbies, and passions but also 200 traumas. Besides being allergic to basically everything possible, she had a fear of sleeping, was hypersensitive, bi-polar, had panic reactions to many different smells as well as having fifty other anxieties — most of them I had never even heard about before. After having activated a handful of traumas, Gina suddenly developed severe verbal diarrhea that made her talk almost constantly — especially when I wanted to sleep.
After having sex with Gina, the first time, I was naturally reluctant to engage sexually again. Sex had made Gina open her heart, and as a result, history had repeated itself. Gina had turned into a mirror reflecting my own chaotic life. Desperately I was considering my predicament. As a result of carelessness, I was now caught in a hotel with a woman who had even more pain and traumas than myself. If she and I united all our traumas, we would have enough pain to keep a whole convention of psychologists busy for a year. To get myself out of the mess, I told Gina that I would rent a room for myself, but this created new problems. Gina also had a trauma around men not wanting to sleep in the same bed or space as her. Out of fear that I would abandon her, she now needed to relate to me 24/7. By this time, she even had a hard time allowing me to go to the bathroom alone. If I managed to leave her for a few minutes, she not only became depressed but also had a multiple personality disorder making it difficult to predict who I would meet when I returned. Constantly she was changing between a playful child, a creative genius, an angry old woman, a wise witch, an abandoned little girl, and twenty other characters. No-matter how I planned to get myself out of the mess, Gina had a trauma that could stop me. A trauma that would unmistakably turn my plan into something that would look as if I was a bastard in the process of purposefully torturing her.
After several days in the intense company of Gina, I was so tired that I could hardly sit straight. Feeling like a boxer in the final round, I made a desperate attempt to flee. Sadly, I’m a transparent guy who enjoys honesty, and telling her a lie was not easy, but, in the end, I saw no other option. Reaching out for her sympathy, I convinced her that I had a heart condition, and if I didn’t get my sleep at regular hours, I could be in severe danger of having a heart attack. This made her listen, and after a whole day of discussion, she allowed me to get my own room and sleep there for the night.
When going to the reception, a woman told me that they only had one free room left. This was the bridal suite, and it was terribly expensive. Still, it was my only chance of getting a little peace, and without complaining, I paid a fortune for the suite. Telling the receptionist that no-one was allowed to know my room number, I got the key and was off. Dropping dead on a huge bed surrounded by pink cushions, I immersed myself in the bliss of solitude. I don’t know how long I managed to sleep, but perhaps an hour or two passed before I was awakened by a knock on the door. When I opened, Gina was smiling at me, clapping her hands eagerly when she saw me.
“Surprise!” she shouted. “I KNEW this was the room! I have a special talent for finding missing people.”
“Ok …,” I said, feeling completely groggy. “Can we talk tomorrow? I need to sleep.”
Instead of responding, she pushed herself past me and into the room.
“Wow!” she said, smiling from ear to ear. “You booked the bridal suite! What an amazing and romantic surprise!”
“It was the only room left,” I said, but she ignored my response.
“I’m glad I found you,” she said, suddenly looking very serious. “We need to talk about something important.”
“What is important?” I asked, immediately regretting that I had now opened a conversation.
“I have invited my sister to join us tomorrow,” she said. “but she has a lot of mental issues. I will need your help.”
“With what?” I asked, immediately regretting that I had now also involved myself in the conversation.
“I don’t want to have to stay in the same room as my sister,” Gina said. “Now that you and I have the bridal suite, I will come and stay with you.”
When my holiday with Gina finally came to an end, I was more dead than alive. On the way home on the plane, I was sitting between Gina and her sister while they were constantly arguing. As I was putting on a headset trying to relax, it finally dawned on me that there was a deeper meaning behind this trip. Being around Gina not only gave me space to forget all my own pain while constantly relating to hers, but it had also made me long for my own depression. My trip with Gina had not been a holiday melting with a loving woman, but a holiday from all my emotional chaos. After two weeks in Gina’s hell, I couldn’t wait to get home with the purpose of diving into my own private hell. What a treat it would be to dwell by my nightmares, celebrate my terrible past while lingering with the idea of my own suicide instead of Gina’s.
As I got home, my depression was waiting in my doorway, and the next days, I made love to my depression like never before. While doing so, I needed to get myself out of my relationship with Gina. With the purpose of breaking up without becoming the aim of her suicide threats, I patiently started the process of — day by day — withdrawing one millimeter at a time. During the first couple of weeks, Gina would be very frustrated, calling me ten times a day, but a few months later, I was at a safe distance. Today, ten years later, Gina and I are friends, and we talk a couple of times a year. To avoid orgasmic hugs and emotional earthquakes, I prefer to speak to her on the phone.
When recently she called me, we had an honest and engaging conversation about the vulnerability of women.
“Most women cry a lot more than they are prepared to talk openly about,” she said. “Don’t you ever cry when you are alone?”
“Yes, I do,” I said, “but when it happens, it’s usually from the joy of being single.”
