Orgasmo: You've Lost that Loving Feeling

The feeling after a man orgasms is one of the worst parts of life. While this doesn’t go for every ejaculation—roughly twenty percent of fuckage is so magnanimous in its hedonistic pleasure that all you can do after blasting her in the face at point blank range is try and catch your breath whilst convincing her to bring you a glass of water—the typical feeling you get after ravaging a woman is torrid. In fact, it could only be compared to the feeling you get when you wake up in the morning (unless you’re a morning person, in which case you can go fuck yourself). It’s that genuine-as-could-be, groan-induced “fuck me” feeling you get when you finally realize you're awake and you have shit to do. That’s what it feels like to dump a seething hot load in a girl’s pussy… or rather, that’s what it feels like after you fill her cum dumpster.

The actual feeling of shooting raw dog up into a bitch is more like the feeling of twenty-thousand butterfly wings gently wisping every inch of your body simultaneously... while you're on acid… times a million-bazillion... except only in your peepee. Not to get all Nick Gaudio on you there, but that really is the central tenant of the comparison in question: the disparity between how good it feels until the second it’s over.

This post-ejaculatory paradigm shift, hereafter referred to as the "Orgasmo," takes place in three relative intensity levels. These intensity levels are directly related to the circumstances and girl inherent to the situation.

The first and lowest intensity level comes after you have intercourse with a regular sexual partner. You finish for what must be the thousandth time with a respectable but nothing too fancy fuck session and what immediately crosses your mind? You now have to feign compassion for railing the shit out her for the next ten minutes, sometimes referred to as (fuck I don’t even want to say it) cuddling. All you have to look forward to in the next eight to ten hours is a crowded bed full of uncomfortable sleeping positions and morning breath. Be that as it may, this first and most conservative level of Orgasmo also brings with it a certain level of comfort in that you know all you have to do is maintain the status quo (read: pretend your interested in the other aspects of a long-term relationship) until you leave the next morning.

The second level of the Orgasmo involves any random hookup situation. It is similar to the first level in that you still maintain a certain degree of comfort knowing that generally there are no social repercussions from having slipped her the cucumber slumber, but it goes a step further in thatthere are really no expectations in terms of further responsibilities from this point on (outside of the remote chance you have to sacrifice a sock for semen absorption). However, there is still a great deal of anguish that floodsyour mind when you immediately realize the awkward social tango that is waking up the next morning and/or saying goodbye. It calls into question whether or not all the small talk, subtle hint dropping, and tequila shots were worth it in the first place.

The third and final level of the Orgasmo occurs after you're done fucking a dirty whore. Whether it’s a one-time alcohol-induced hookup or a time-honored fuck buddy, fucking a whore is by far the most intense post-ejaculatory pontification attainable. This is attributable to a few key factors--and I want to take a second here and tell the women reading this article to play close attention, because I’m about to help them understand in one clear and concise sentence why guys have cheated on them since the dawn of time.

Fucking a whore is an echelon of sexual intensity simply unattainable by the modern day girlfriend

Why you ask? Because fucking the shit out of a girl with no regard for life or labia isn’t something that happens within the parameters of a serious relationship. Combine this with dirty talk, intoxication, and the famous "slutty girl ape-shit orgasm" and you’ve reached a new plateau of sexual immersion, intensity, and gratification.

The disparaging fact of the matter however, is that this heightened climax only serves to provoke increased angst upon onset of the Orgasmo. Not only do you have all the tenants previously mentioned concerning the awkward social tango of parting with your recently railed libertine, but on top of that, you have the possibility of having to deal with her inability to understand that she’s nothing more than a vagina to you.

More importantly, however, are the social ramifications. Maybe you got lucky and fucked this bitch in the privacy of your own home, when your roommates weren’t around, late at night, and convinced her to wear a paper bag over her head (cause doggy style is the best way to fuck a whore anyway). More than likely however, it was at a party filled with most of the members of your immediate peer group, copious amounts of beer and liquor, and perhaps a barnyard animal or two. You (read: alcohol) slowly but surely were able to convince yourself that this girl was fuckable. Five-to-ten shots of rail later, you were grunting like a Samoan with a look on your face like Murdock dying for the 5^th time.

It was immediately upon releasing that frothy tapioca when you began to contemplate the repercussions from your friends, friends, and coworkers. Fully immersed in the jack hammering of her pelvis into Quaker oatmeal, your mind couldn't have been further from this line of logic. It’s the instantaneous crystallization of this fact that is part and participle to the Orgasmo. It’s a sudden loss of all rationale regarding your decision to have had sex, gone within the blink of an eye (or urethra).