Orgasm is an anti-climax.
That’s why phone sex works so well, or used to, at least. Webcams are replacing it. The pleasure is in the anticipation, not the ejaculation. That’s where the money is, too. Once the wad is shot, then the game is over, suddenly and definitively. Many a phone-based call girl has had the caller hang up abruptly in mid-sentence with no explanation, the voice a bit whipped, beaten, and battered, until it finally fades out altogether, drowned in a little pile of protoplasm puddling up on the paunch. Foreplay is much more important, that open-ended expectation of what’s to come, the feeling that anything could happen, though only one thing actually will. The ultimate outcome is a virtual certainty. The trick for the girl is to keep you on line as long as possible, excited enough to keep your interest up, so to speak, but not so excited that the gig’s over prematurely. This can also work in person. Many a beer gets sold in Thailand this way. Of course, even better than sex, orgasm included, is the real thing, falling in love. You can’t buy that falling feeling, though it can be induced falsely. To know that it’s fake would kill it. Nevertheless, if you can achieve it without getting trapped in it, then you’re way ahead of the curve, because that falling feeling literally symbolizes something overwhelming, something theoretically beyond control, something that ultimately leads to more than just evolution of the species. Evolution is simple; just keep fucking. Love is more than that; love is about divinity. To achieve peak emotion is the ultimate pleasure of humanity. To control it is the master’s touch.
streaming consciousness... 
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