It feels like thundercats, which is my new way of saying “awesome.” You know that moment before you sneeze? Your body shudders. Muscles tense up. You feel like you’re about to contract into a tiny little ball. And then…. release! Critical mass! Supernova!
A male orgasm is like a sneeze. A cosmic sneeze full of TNT that makes you feel a little dizzy and drunk afterwards.
Wait. No. A male orgasm is like riding a roller coaster naked. Slowly, you click-click-click upwards. Then the plunge! You’re weightless! Wheeee!
Hell, it just feels good. Turns bones to jell-o. Makes eyeballs dive out of sockets. Blood surges like a tsunami.
For a guy, sex is a Phil Collins drum solo in the very pit of his stomach. He can feel the reverberations from the pads of his toes to the tip of his nose. The drumbeat starts slowly, then builds to a roaring, crashing, funky climax. It’s a a volcano that rumbles, shakes, trembles and then explodes! Blows it’s top, and spews forth a pegasus made out of lava!
When a dude ejaculates, it feels like stars and comets and planets with rings are stampeding out of him. He’s like a festive piÃ±ata filled with cupcakes that suddenly bursts.
Nerve endings do the wave. Guts applaud. Skin wrings itself out.
But this mushroom cloud of pleasure is brief. Granted, being a human fire hose can be exhausting. You know how in old cartoons a character will get hit in the head with a mallet or anvil? And then that character will sit there with little bluebirds flying around his head? That’s a dude after having released the Kraken. Then we collapse into a f@!k coma. Real men, for the record, don’t shower after sex. Because we like the stink.
Do not freak. Men are amazingly recuperative. Once we wake up, just give us some bacon and we’ll be ready to go again.