The first time I ate a Cinnabon. Wow. It’s the cream cheese frosting that does it.
I’ve also had many orgasmic moments landing an airplane. When everything is timed right, and you get that perfect squeak of the wheels on the pavement… oooooh.
This thread made me think of a great expression from Naval aviation:
The three best things in life are a good landing, a good orgasm, and a good bowel movement. A night carrier landing is an opportunity to experience all three simultaneously.
Come home from work, remove shoes & socks, scrunch feet on the carpet.
Ahhhhhhhhh!!!
I am a choral singer at the symphony level. Once in a great while, when the chorus is getting close to performance level with a magnificant piece of music, I lose the sense of all earthly things and become a perfectly vibrating string in a perfectly harmonious cosmos. It is sheer ecstacy. If there is a heaven, I hope it will feel like that.
Performing to a full hall is also a big O, but it’s a bit too stressful for the serene ecstacy to kick in.
Music is a great source of total overwheming breath-taking satisfaction. A couple of weeks ago, the chorus and symphony performed the Verdi Requiem. The glory of the soprano soloist’s “Libera Me” left everyone stunned and drained, feeling there was nowhere left to go. Of course, they were wrong.
Great art can do it to me also. And a really good chocolate truffle.
Books. I have to admit it. Books. Their crisp pages, the “new book” smell, the neat stacks of them, the lovely cover art. Books do it for me.
I’ve been going on a major book collecting binge and have been getting lots of shipments of books (often from Amazon.com or eBay). Nothing quite compares to getting the box, opening it up, and removing the books, one-by-one, and admiring them. Read the description of the back cover, thumb through the pages, and inspect the cover art. Then I place these new purchases in my special “book box,” where I have them carefully stacked and organized. (And I often reorganize them, giving me the chance to admire them some more . . . )
Of course, reading the book is the best joy. I pick through my carefully organized box, make my choice, and read it. And go through the process again with the next book and the next book . . .
But it’s those crisp pages that always get me.
The luxury of speaking with my English friend by phone. When he says my name
(no, not Beckwall, my real name), I feel weak in the knees. He’s from Manchester originally, but I don’t think we should hold that against him. It’s actually a rather posh accent. I could listen to him read the phone book, and it would send chills up and down my spine.
(maybe it has something to do with the fact that I pretend he’s Chris Martin, and that Chris has dumped Gwyneth for me - that’s not entirely true, because on other occasions I’ve pictured him as Gavin Rossdale or Jude Law)
When Roger broke into the opening of Comfortably Numb during the In The Flesh concert. Fu-u-u-uck ye-e-e-e-eah…
Back in March I saw Better Than Ezra for the second time (I had a thread about it). They opened with the song “Particle” which I love, and as soon as I heard those opening notes I just fell apart in place. Weak knees and swooning. I absolutely melted and was just in love with the singer and the energy in the room and with the song.
Heehee, I’m all happy thinking about that moment again.
Several years ago we were at the Outer Banks. Hubby and I went to Frisco’s for lunch. For dessert I ordered the something Chocolate Cheesecake. It was O-R-G-A-S-M-I-C. Though stuffed to the gills I ordered another piece to-go. On the way back to the house I realized that we were running late and my sister didn’t have a key to get in. As an ‘I’m sorry’ I figured I’d offer her the cheesecake. I didn’t want to, I hoped she say ‘thanks for the offer but, no’.
But NOOOOO. She took the apology cheesecake and I could only drool as she ate it in front of me.
Another thing I find orgasmic is backrubs. Or backscratches, good ones. My Hubby and I joke that my back is one big erogenous zone.
Certain music ( primarily classical or,frankly, any outstanding rock/blues song) when I hear it, just sends waves of pure delight through me.
And. Evidently. We have them about appliances. :dubious:
Our crap GE every-one-dies-in-four-years-or-less dishwasher decided to go vesuvious on us one given Sunday. It’d been warning for three months or so, to the point that it was more a dish-rinser than a dish-washer…and even then it only succeded in adding the grime added three loads ago to your dishes.
So we went a searching high an low for a new non-GE dishwasher. Long story short, we know have a Bisque Kitchen Aid that was originally $750, but the previous ‘owner’ didn’t like something about it, so we got it for $500…nooo, we got it for 10% LESS than that with the mail-in rebate.
It’s got five modes: Clean, Cleaner, Scald, Anti-Bacterial-Nuke, and WoahNelly!
It’s stainless steel inside, and it’s larger inside than it is outside, and for the piesteresistance: it’s got a lockout button to keep grubby 18 month old fingers from starting the dishwasher!
Suddenly I need to go take a nap.
Stretching out after a hard day on my king-sized waterbed, right in the middle, so that I’m completely afloat. The first few seconds are pure heaven as I relax and float…
I wouldn’t call it orgasmic, cuz that would just be ooky, but…
when I hold a newborn baby up against my chest, it must release endorphins or something. I get a fantastic rush, physically.
Babies rock.
Went to see Steely Dan a few years ago, at Nissan Pavilion in Virginia. The Eagles had this place in mind when they wrote Hotel California, because once the show is over -YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE! One tiny road in and out - a nightmare. But I digress. We were laying back on the lawn and they played my favorite, Deacon Blue. The stars were out that night, yeah.
Getting back home from a long day of work, having a couple beers, and feeling that alcohol relax all my sore muscles. It makes me kind of understand how other people can enjoy other drug painkillers (like marijuana or opium or something) because a systematic release of pain on command is very pleasant. I have a really low alcohol tolerance, so it only takes a few drinks for all my blood vessels/muscles to relax. When I’m really tired, I get drunk really easy, but frankly I think 12 ounces of imported bliss is a fair tradeoff for undoing 8 hours of exhaustion 
1.) A half day of pampering at the spa. Aromatherapy facial, massage, pedicure.
2.) There is a place in Pennsylvania that sells hand made liqueur filled chocolate covered cherries. I got four of them for Valentine’s Day. My sweetie said he felt rather superfluous after watching me eat them. (I did not share)
3.) A really great bottle of wine. Every once in a while, I’ll treat myself to one.
I’m very greedy and selfish about my sense-gasms. They are just for me, and so far, I’ve only let a few people witness them. (not counting the lady at the spa, of course… 
)
A good solid positraction burnout from a late 60s musclecar with a Big-Block and open headers. At least 30 feet long. Preferably if Im behind the wheel.
That and walking in cold mud barefooted.
Sneezing gives me what I can best describe as a nasal orgasm. There have been times where I repeatedly press on a “G” spot adjacent to the bridge of my nose resulting in multiple “orgasms”. The experience can get so intense that my eyes water and my head hurts.
Sneez-gasms. ooooooh, yeah, I am with you on that.
A few things come to mind:
Anything that gets me Into the Zone (and no, not Britney’s new album). I mean when things are going so well that I can mentally stand back and observe myself in a disembodied way and know things are going well while it is happening. A great run or athletic performance, playing music - my band just played a gig this past weekend and we just rocked on a couple of songs.
Great food and drink.
Reading a great book or listening to great music. Eye-gasm and Ear-gasm.
and I am surprised it hasn’t been mentioned yet, near as I can tell - what was Twain said? “the pleasure of making love is overrated and the pleasure of a good dump is underrated” (paraphrased of course - I doubt Twain used the word “dump”…) 
These experiences are best shared … what book?