I´ve never fucked someone who talks so much during sex. Small wonder he gives little or no oral sex, one can´t talk with his mouth full. And he pesters me to tell him tales of my past experiences. I have no problem writing about them, but the sexual act is not debriefing, it is about creating memories, savoring each other bodies, exploring the senses. A moment eternal, as the poem puts it so well, not going back on moments past.
I straddled him and asked, begging Clive Barker´s forgiveness for half stealing a line: what are your pleasures? I asked him to Picture a moment, be it a simple missionary position, an ordinary anal, or he could make an attempt of being Christian Grey. I let him slap my butt and he was so tame! My cheeks barely burned, and the mischief in his eyes quickly melted into fear that he might go too far, cause he is obviously Stronger than me. And he is a little clumsy. It is Worth noticing that the violence of such below vanilla spanking was off-putting to him, but trying to induce me to fuck him without preservatives, wasn´t. On the other hand, I think that some men do that because they are eager, horny and because they do feel that the condom does interfere with their pleasure.
The feel of firmer hands came to my skin, cause it has its own memory, how sure and precise he was at every movement. Never too much, never too little. When the mind falters, the millions of nervous cells on my skin remind me of him.
The anxiety on his face is clear and overwhelming. And that´s what stirred my curiosity I suppose. What would come out on that face if he´d only shut, breath and discovered that he did not have anything to do for a day or so. Sleep? What if he could not read the News – which is part of his job, could not wear clothes, and simply had to keep his mind still?
There is probably nothing there but noise. Aggressive noise, since I am an introvert, noise is Always annoying. I also wonder if he would ever give me the chance to hear his silence and read his face, to feel his body without any shadow of anxiety. Either he is nothing but this raucous noise, or I am not the right woman.
For someone whose mind races in different directions at the same time at a feverish speed, concentrating on one thing that overwhelms the senses, all of them, was a life changing experience. I found out that sex could be a way to still my mind. I am often drifting between storms and a bottomless abyss, and the connection of another human being on such basic level anchors me…
Besides the physical benefits, cause this defusing the bomb does indeed cause a measurable physical improvement, such as better sleep, less stress… there is nothing it can add, I reckoned, until I found someone who gave me some affectionate feedback, as little as it was. You can´t just request this kind of affection from someone else, it must be freely given, and you don´t want it from just anyone, but from someone special. That´s the catch. That´s drama.
So the search goes on, for the male cinderella, who can draw circles on my forehead and grace me with calmness and meaning.