Today, I seriously considered faking it. Do you? Ever?

Today, I seriously considered faking it. Do you? Ever?

A view of an angel statue in a graveyard.

And no, I don’t mean orgasms. I can’t remember that I’ve ever done that.

I’ve been lucky in that department.

Maybe too lucky, sometimes.

You see, today, I seriously considered playing dead.

Faking that I was done and out of pleasure to be had, because my partner was keeping my orgasm going for what seemed like forever, and my abs were beginning to hurt, my throat was getting a bit raw from moaning, and I honestly wasn’t sure I could keep up with him much longer.

It’s quite hard to fake it like that, though.

To “turn it off,” and there’s really only a small window to convince someone that you’re not “there” anymore, because if they keep up what they are doing, the feeling comes back.

It’s a fine line to walk.

Or lay, in my case, back on the couch, hands curled tightly in his hair.

I didn’t.

I chose to stick with it.

My own personal endurance challenge.

And I made it. Only a thousand years later, he finished up. Perhaps his tongue got tired, or he heard the crack in my voice.

Whatever, he finished, none the wiser of the contemplations running through my mind, or just what he does to me, but proud of his part in my pleasure, nonetheless.

So, tell me, ever faked it?

Whether orgasm or being “done,” just to get a break?

I have. Rarely, but once in a while, I just can’t keep up. Which I guess is not faking being “done,” really, but yes, yes it is.

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