Ever since listening to a recent Bert Show piece on accidental public orgasms, I’ve been on the lookout for one. I’ve paid more attention than usual to the females in my orbit, especially on bike trails and at the gym where some of the callers said they’d experienced such wonders. Yet I couldn’t be certain I’d seen any, until today. Having achieved my goal at last, a single thought fills my mind: once was more than enough!
Prior to this afternoon, my brushes with feminine ecstasy had all been false alarms. The woman on the train writhing in the throes of pleasure, so I thought, turned out to be suffering a seizure. As guilty as I felt for the gross misinterpretation, I minimally atoned by dialing 911 and sticking around until help arrived. I also could’ve sworn a lady at the gym had bitten her lip to keep from crying out in delirious joy, while doing abdominal exercises. Since more than one radio caller talked about experiencing an orgasm in the midst of such routines, I figured this woman’s expression could mean only one thing. And it did, except the “one thing” was pain. Seems she hadn’t veiled an ecstatic outburst so much as grimacing upon pulling a muscle.
Despite my misconceptions, I couldn’t doubt the sight before my eyes this afternoon. When a frowning woman seated in a massage chair at the mall suddenly smiled and her eyes started to glaze over, my suspicions dawned. When she began gyrating at the waist and thrusting her hips deeper into the chair, before expelling an abrupt gasp, those suspicions morphed into conclusive certainty. Not that the proof made the observation any easier to bear … since the woman enjoying the spontaneous orgasm happened to be the seventy-year-old who’d given birth to my wife!