Karen leaned over and kissed me, gently, her tongue

flicking lightly in my mouth. My back arched and my

cock felt as if it had split in half; I felt the

wetness on my chest and belly for an instant, then

she brushed the crown of my cock with a finger, and

the world vanished in a flash of brilliant white light.

This painful nirvana lasted a seeming eternity. Karen's

hand and fingers drew every ounce of sexual energy out

of me, keeping me in orgasm for longer than I could

ever remember. She would pause in her stimulations,

then stroke my nipples or my cock or brush the

sensitive corona and rim ever so gently, and I would

gurgle and buck and gush onto my body again. Karen

continued her expert masturbation until I was no longer

coherent; the gushes had turned into dribbles smeared

on my cock and her hand. I shivered, half from cooling

sweat, half from the intense physical afterimages. The

memories of Karen's expression, the way she had touched

me, and of her kiss continued to shoot thrills through

me; I shuddered again.