Losing My Hot Tub Virginity

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I confess that I occasionally find it amusing to announce that my most powerful ever orgasm was shared only by myself and a hot tub. Of course imparting such information is tantamount to issuing a challenge, which from experience I have found to be no bad thing. It’s also actually probably no longer true, though it would still fall perhaps within the top 5, maybe 10. But then I’ve never been one to let the whole truth get in the way of a good story.

I was working in New Zealand for a couple of months, and I had a few days free and decided to take a bus trip around the North Island. It was fun to get around, but as you might expect the company on such a trip wasn’t that stimulating–the usual odd assortment of people who undertake such ventures. And I obviously failed to make an impression on anyone, as one day they actually forgot me at stop we had made, and I had to grab a taxi and say, yes, ‘Follow that bus’, until they reached their lunch stop and I could rejoin the tour. Anyway, that’s not the point of the story. Orgasms. Yes.

So, we stopped in the town of Rotorua, a town of sulfur and volcanic activity, where we stayed at a motel, entertainment being laid on in the form of a floor show of Maori dancers. The evening was pleasant enough, chatting with an elderly American couple and a young Japanese girl on vacation. Watching the Maori dances itself was wonderful. The smooth coffee-colored tattooed skin. Guttural grunts and chants. It was very primal and evocative. And after dinner and the show, on returning to my room I suddenly remembered the hot tubs advertised in the hotel brochure. Private hot tubs. I had never been in a hot tub before. It’s not something the English do really… like pedicures. Who has the time of money to bother with such decadence? Well, bursa escort this time it was free, and I had all night to waste, so I grabbed a towel and headed there immediately, slid the bolt across the door and slipped out of my clothes in an instant.

The room was dark and steamy. A little like a sauna. Small, almost but not quite small enough to be claustrophobic. The walls and ceiling made of slatted wood planks. Recessed dim lights in the ceiling. And the tub itself was a huge 3/4 barrel, rather like a large wine barrel. I climbed in. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of sliding into water that warm–it was soothing beyond belief. And this was natural volcanic spring water. It didn’t smell that wonderful, but due to the mineral content it was slightly slippery on my skin which felt like heaven after a log day traveling in the bus. I pressed the button that began to send a zillion bubbles surging through the water and leaned back, my arms stretched out, resting along the edge of the tub, just enjoying the warmth and relaxing.

Given that I was a hot tub virgin, perhaps it took me a little longer than it might take other people to consider those jets of water. But once I had the idea of course I had to carry it through. It took some planning, and some… er, flexibility. If you’ve ever tried this you’ll know that the jets are never quite where you need them to be. You’d think they would plan them better. But little by little, I discovered that by kind of laying back, half-floating with my arms hooked over the sides, my legs spread a little, also hooked over the edge of the tub… well, I could direct the jets exactly where they needed to be.

I won’t say that it didn’t feel good, but I was a little disappointed with the effect. The overall ambiance was near-perfect. bursa escort bayan The soothing lighting, gentle bubbling rushing sound, the hot soothing water all over me, and especially ‘there’.. but, hmm. I could hardly feel anything really. Despite jiggling myself about, moving further away then closer again… nothing seemed to quite umm, hit the spot. It was nice. Pleasant. But nothing to write home about. (Just imagine, “Dear Mom and Dad, New Zealand is great. Weather is wonderful. But frankly the hot tub didn’t get me off as well as I had hoped.”)

Anyway, I gave up really and just lay there. It felt so relaxing. I tried to dismiss the thought that the hotel had installed secret cameras, but no, that would be another story entirely. And it was then, almost at the moment that I let go of trying, that I began to feel it. Barely. Almost imperceptible at first. The gentle but relentless pounding of the bubbling jet of water between my thighs. Gentle but insistent. And a slow tingling. It was such a new feeling that I almost didn’t recognize it. Something completely different to anything I had ever felt before. A tingling that made my toes tense and curl. The sensation spreading oh so horribly slowly that I almost couldn’t bear it. Wanting whatever it was that was building to BUILD FASTER but however I tried to squirm and wriggle myself against the water jet it just kept building so damned slowly. Wriggling and squirming for more, but at the same time almost terrified that if I moved too much I would lose it and that was unthinkable. I wanted this. Needed this. My body about to erupt and I could feel it. Knowing that something was going to hit and hit me hard and being totally unable to control it. Wanting it so badly to be over and yet not wanting it to stop.

Still escort bursa scared of what was going to happen. And I’m in water! My toes curled tight, calf and thigh muscles tensing so hard, fingers grabbing at the side of the tub. I couldn’t have held my eyes open if I had tried. Slow motion. Every sensation, every feeling just slowed. I stopped moving, every muscle concentrating on keeping myself just… right there. Climbing so painfully slowly, slower, slower still until everything stops. Hovers. Suspended. Breath held in anticipation of something. And then that moment when everything is still. The split second at the very top in between climbing and falling. Everything quiet except for the bubbling of water.

The rush hit me with such force that I thought I would drown. My hands could no longer hold onto the tub. My head slipped under the water, but I didn’t care. I thought I might shake so hard I would come apart. What began as the slightest tingling in my perineum spreading so hard and fast down my legs, through my body. So unexpected. So new. Just so unlike any orgasm I had ever experienced before. I was totally unprepared for it. People write about waves of orgasms. Rather cliched, but it was just like that. Wave after wave. Cresting and breaking. And they wouldn’t stop. They kept on and on. My head flung back, mouth open wide, swallowing water and just. Not. Caring.

It was almost like a sensory deprivation tank. Dark, warm, enveloping, enclosed. I have no idea how long it lasted, but when I finally managed to recover some sense of myself again I swear every muscle in my body ached, so hard had I been trembling. I had to hang my arms over the side of the tub to catch my breath and just lay there. For minutes. Maybe 10 maybe 20. Until my skin was pale and wrinkled and could find enough strength in my legs to support me again. I staggered back to my room wrapped in a huge bath towel. Fortunately no one was around to see me stumble like a drunk woman. And then I slept for twelve hours.

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