Okay, maybe not that unusual. I mean, I'm usually in contact with her during orgasm. Especially if we're having sex, during which there is, technically, some sort of holding going on, whether it involves arms, legs or any other sex-related anatomical paraphernalia. And since we usually masturbate, when that happens, on the bed next to each other, there's at least some contact.
But last night I was
"I want you to have an orgasm," I mumbled drowsily into her hair, "but I want to hold you while you do so."
"Mmmmmmruhhhh?" she replied.
"I like holding you in bed," I explained sleepily, "it's my favourite part of the day." (This was, in fact, the truth - there are very few pleasures in my life matching that of holding a warm girl in bed after a cold day - except maybe lunch). And besides, I didn't want to move.
And so she brought herself to orgasm with me holding her. At least, part of me was holding her. Before I knew it, my mouth was otherwise engaged with her boobs, and my left hand - the one that usually does the holding - was between her legs, stroking her perineum gently as she fingered her clit, little staccato breaths coming from her as she neared her tipping point.
I could feel her coming closer and closer, her nipples (under the careful ministrations of my mouth) hardening up and forming the Twin Beacons of Truth and Justice that they so effortlessly become, and my fingers becoming more and more slippery as her wetness grew and came sliding down from her vagina... but my body stayed where it was: still, patient, calm, with my one perineum-free arm continuing to hold her.
As her climax took hold, she waved me away. I stopped paying attention to her breasts and labia, and withdrew myself to the position I'd been in before we started, my arms wrapped around her as she rode out the throes of her orgasmic bliss.
And I smiled. I was still warm and comfortable, after all.