Sex is art. And if you are lucky, skilled and willing, it is a masterpiece. Created through words, continued through touch, immortalized through memory which can cause your body to convulse indefinitely afterwards. It’s a message sent in anticipation during the day. Followed by sitting with your lover deep in stimulating conversation about philosophy, human nature, or the state of the world. Sex is holding your lover’s hand, and as you recall his earlier lustful messages to you, involuntarily sinking your nails deep into his skin. So far we are at least many hours in.
Scarlett recently wrote a post that too much fuss is made over sex which apparently lasts on average for 11 minutes. What?! Scarlett, babe, I love you, but that is absolutely wrong. Apparently some Pablo guy wrote a book on that topic. Well Pablo, you are fucking wrong, and I feel compelled to burn this propaganda at the root.
For many years I’ve felt uncomfortable watching so-called sex scenes on TV, and now I know why. It’s not sex. It’s not sexy anyway. At best, it’s mimicry. Basic and boring. It always starts out the same way, the couple kisses, there is some frenzy, he pushes her into a wall or unto the bed, clothing is hastily torn off and then he is on top of her, bang bang bang, “I’m coming”, he comes, slumps on top of her. Bird chirping. No thank you. I guess that is some type of sex, but unfortunately it has become the prototype for sex, which too many of us are emulating. There is better.
What is sex?
Sex is receiving a message from your lover which freezes your heart at the same time that your nipples harden in anticipation as well as in memory of your sensual journey which, once it has begun, continues infinitely. Sex is a continuum. Once the flame is lit it never stops. It is a journey which should not be emulated, but instead spontaneously discovered and created between lovers.
Sex is surrender to your lover, letting him take you. It is both lovers being vulnerable. You are an agent bestowing upon him the experience of absolute abandon.
Sex is love. It is loving a person in those moments, from the anticipatory conversations, through intercourse, through post-coital embrace. It is respect. It is fear. Trust. Stimulated senses and sensibilities. Mental. Physical. Spiritual. It’s throwing yourself into the abyss. Sex is submission to destruction. It is creation.
We mistakenly think that sex has rules and ways and methods. Wrong. Sex is primal. You want it from the depths of your loins, in a variety of explosively colorful ways. Even if you don’t have the words to express your desires, your body tells you what it likes and how it likes it. Even if it would make your friends squirm. You like his finger in your ass. His cock in your throat. To kiss him lovingly while he rides you. That’s your way babe. Get to it. Do it.
Thinking about sex is not time wasted
It is a part of sex. Sure, torturing yourself about your prettiness or how attractive you are naked will drive you crazy. If it’s the right lover the answer is clear: You are enough. They love you, their lover. They cherish you. Respect you. Desire you. We should free ourselves from the pressure to please our lover. Our lover will be pleased, as long as our intent is to create loving sensuality with him. Sex is freedom. It is the creation of a new feeling, one unique to the partners. No restrictions. No rules. And definitely not 11 minutes. Sex is infinite.