Twitter found my sister and I engaged in a humorous competition. Heard of the Orgasm Count? Probably if you follow us on twitter. My sister, when I announced I had 25 orgasms in one day alone, decided that multiples shouldn’t count, check with the contestants, and they agreed. JohnDStories created the most hilarious rule page based on our twitter-ings, not to mention sadly only one orgasm per session allowed.
Truly, I am just curious. I’ve never kept track of my orgasms. I am married with someone who knows every button to press, and tries to fulfill every fantasy I have. So orgasms are not elusive in the slightest to my body. Still, how many do I really have…?
Competition Count: 10 Multiple Reality: 30
Interestingly enough, on day one almost set the alarm at midnight to get started. Husband decided to set it for early morning. We thought we were done with three sessions, but once I saw two other bloggers hit three, I pushed him for one more. I did, however, patiently wait until he was done vacuuming.
I panicked that we needed to get ahead on a Sunday, because once the work week started, and kids returned, we were going to drastically slow down.
Day four only reflects our typical average of 2.
Running Interference: day two (and three), my husband woke up and fingered me to orgasm, but said he wasn’t feeling well enough for sex (but he stated that after a blow job). As soon as he stood up, he had to rush to the bathroom. Either stomach flu or food poisoning – not sexy. He was incredibly ill all day, not even going into work (a situation I’ve never seen).
I went to work, and returned with a fever.
Next day we both too exhausted, and he still wasn’t feeling well. End result: I went from being tied in the lead to under 12 orgasms 🙁
Day five and six immediately following work, my son starts vomiting, with a fever following. It was a long night, and I called into work the next day.
Story of the week: Going with the apparent conflicting theme of the week:
It’s late when my husband gets home, as always. I had just started brushing my teeth, getting ready for bed. “What are you doing up so late?” he questions, surprised.
“I just now put our son to bed,” I reply heading for the bed where he follows me. I slip on a tshirt of his, the length hitting just above my knees; I sleep naked almost exclusively. “Please sleep with boxers on in case our son needs us in the middle of the night.” He also sleeps naked.
It is a statement to how sick our son is just as clear as if I had gone into detail about it. “Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll keep our door cracked then too, because he can’t open it.” This new place, the door to our room doesn’t fit the frame well; luckily it’s a tight fit, but it is a pain to open and close.
Ah, the unspoken language of parents: we’re wearing clothes to sleep in, the door will be cracked, literal translation, “we aren’t having any sex tonight.”
He kisses me on my forehead and pulls the covers up over me, tucking me primly. “I love you. I’m going to get something to eat,” (I had not brought him dinner, unable to travel with a sick kid) “I’m starving. I’ll probably play some games too.”
Sure, why not? It’s not like we were having sex, and I was exhausted and really not caring what he did, just grateful that he was home. “Please check on him before you come to bed, and make sure he’s okay,” I requested, and he nodded, then left me.
I slept that night fitfully and awoken three different times. The punctuations of awakening made me recall the different dreams I had.
In one, I was having sex with a creature – not human – but having human physical characteristics. The details have mostly escaped me already.
In the second dream, I was having sex with multiple vampires. Again, and especially because of my boy’s little voice waking me, the details are hazy. I had to put my son on the couch, and set him up with cartoons; he couldn’t sleep anymore, and he had a high fever. Once he was settled, and I felt comfortable, I went back to bed, snuggling for warmth against my husband’s sleeping form.
The third dream I awoken from I could lay in bed and think back. Most of the sex bloggers were there, and we lived on this new island in space. Marie Rebelle had the largest house, and most of us around her were very poor, and barely able to scrape by. But she was gracious, and giving, and often we would gather at her house for parties or just to socialize. For some reason, my lover went missing, and was assumed dead after awhile. I was taken and raped repeatedly by several men. Finally, I threw myself upon a man who was sweet, and I could manipulate because he wasn’t very smart. I convinced him to marry me, and I toiled at our land just as hard and for as many hours as he did. He occasionally wanted sex as part of the bargain, and while I didn’t want to have sex with him, I did agree from time to time more as a sense of obligation.
*This dream is clearly influenced by a book that I had just read, recommended from a fellow blogger.
Such a juxtaposition of desire and family responsibility that night. I often will remember erotic dreams – my husband swears I have them every night, as every time he touches me after I’ve been sleeping, I am wet. But the creature and vampire sex is a new one. Dreaming about bloggers is probably because this community is such a big part of my life already. As for Rebel, well, she’s far and away leading this competition, definitely in the “biggest house” as it were.