I was impressed. Shocked, even. Most of the men I've been with have only ever been able to achieve one orgasm. Two, maybe, if we went another round and they were able to allow their bodies -- their cocks, really -- to reset to factory settings. But K had had five. Yes, five orgasms with me. I had had somewhere between 15-20. I'm a multiple orgasm kind of girl. Once you hit all the right spots, you can make by body cum to the sound of your name. And K had done just that. It was incredible. He had fucked me deep and hard, giving long purposeful strokes. He cock, as he would pump, would rub against my g-spot causing me to spasm and squirming and build to an orgasm repeatedly. And he knew how to hit that spot just right. He'd position my legs -- "tree trunks" as he calls them -- on top on his shoulders to ensure that he can slam all eight inches of himself inside of me with a second thought. My thighs lightly grazed the tops of breasts still giving him access to grope and suck while I'm in a folded position with dick deep inside me. And he does grope. Pinches, sometimes. Leans in a little further to suckle on a nipple while I whimper from the full and fulfilling weight of him. And I have a great view, when I have the ability to open my eyes and focus on the movement taking place, of his body slamming into mine as if he's trying to nail himself to me. It's quite a sight. The most pleasurable of all this fucking and sexing and watching him have his orgasm, watching him cum. Now, obviously I cannot see his cum, but the powerful of his thrust increase, the speed of his need quick and his voice beg for the same release he's given me over and over and over again. Followed by this massive roar as he empties himself.
It's hot as hell watching him cum. And having him cum five times, was enough to spark a flame in bed.
But K had admitted that cumming five times was a feat he had already crossed. In fact, he had cum seven times years before with another woman. Briefing describing the nature of his seventh heaven, K vowed that he break that record with me. He would aim for eight between my legs. I'm not one to turn down a challenge, so I welcomed his challenge.
It was another Saturday morning -- Saturdays just seem to work best for us -- and romping was all we wanted to do. And fucked hard we did. He pounded, thrust, stroked, dug and fucked me like no other. I recall several times looking at my legs on his shoulders. Occasionally they would slide off and he would grab them and place them back on himself. Having my legs that high allowed him the best maximum depth possible and deep he went. He would start at a moderate pace, finding his rhythm, letting my moans and pleas guide him. From there, he took all control. Picking up his pace, hitting my g-spot intermittently, folding me forward -- all in the name of sweet, sweet bliss. And bliss we found.
It was between K's third and fourth orgasm that are sex had been so wild, that I swore I saw stars. A galaxy, even. It was crazy. I could see the sparkle of the stars, the colors that made up the distant galaxy -- a red-yellow-blue hue cluster among a backdrop of black speckled with white. Then I came down. Completely in bliss. But K was still hard. After ever orgasm he had, he had somehow managed to stay hard. And we rarely wasted any time in between each or his orgasms. Now my orgasms were concurrently. K's thrust were so powerful that I would cum minutes after each one. I would lose complete control over my body, feel my head shaking from side to side and feel this powerful burst escape through my loins. And K was just ride it out as my pussy would squeeze his cock and my hands would squeeze his hand. And he never stopped pounding me. But somewhere along the way, our incessant orgasm count was reaching a climax all of its own. About two hours of fucking with a few short breaks to allow me to catch my breath, K had taken myself and him to a level neither one of us had ever reached before. With our minds spent and out bodies running on fumes, I had manage to have somewhere between 30-35 orgasm -- no shit -- and K had 10! Ten times K had blast away. 10 times he had busted a nut and and through it all, stayed hard. One of K's repetitive measures was never pulling out after each orgasm. Even if he stayed still to let the waves of pleasure wash over him, he never pulled out. That allowed him to continue to fuck, stay hard and have another orgasm.
A few times during our coupling, K and I had came at the same time, feeling each other gasp for air as our bodies racked over with pleasure till intertwined with one another. We'd paused, laugh and fuck all over again. Between the two of us we had nearly 50 orgasms, some simultaneously, others at the height of own individual bliss. We did it. We fucked. We bonked. We bumped uglies. We screwed. We got it on. We shagged. We knocked boots. We made nookie. We porked. We fornicated. We boned. We slapped bellies. We rolled in the hay. We pounded. We did the deed. We jumped each other's bones. We scored. We banged. We poked. We slammed. We bammed. We plowed. We got some. We boffed. We hanky-pankied. We got busy. Nearly 50 orgasms later, we were a broken record.