Miseducation, unlearning, rewriting, releasing

Sex is not a goddamn performance.
Sex should feel as natural as drinking water.
It should not require confidence.
Sex should happen, because the moment is ripe.
Ripening lips, ripening labia, ripening cock, ripening pupils, ripening state of being. Ripe and augmented and brimming. Your energy goes to your pumping heart, then to every external nerve, then to theirs, on fire.
You bask, roll, play in it. You sigh, moan, laugh.
It’s not about being “good in bed.”
It’s about being happy.
One should never worry if they’re doing it “correctly.” Sex is not factual
I don’t want your cookie-cutter sex, I don’t want your meticulously crafted, calculated, fool-proof fuck. I don’t want a show. I want you. Let your instincts, urges and whims define that. It’s enough.
What do most girls like? Forget about it. Statistics are meaningless when there’s only one. Hello, here’s me. Here’s you.
Don’t worry about taking it too slow. We got time. We got infinite rhythms, combinations, possibilities. Explore each fuck. Take our time. We can do a different one later.
Don’t worry about making me come. I’m here. Right where I want to be.
I am overwhelmed by wanting; you don’t have to convince me. I want you because I like you. So don’t put on a front. Don’t taint this
I’m frustrated—it’s just authenticity I want.
It’s originality.
It’s passion.
It’s joy.
Don’t say that something I like is ugly. Don’t compare yourself to the rest. You will live and die with and within your experiences like everyone else. If someone thinks you are amazing, they are not wrong. Their universe is as real as any other; it is forged through perception.
I don’t care if you accidentally slammed my head into the wall, if you slipped out, if my arm cracked, if the delightful pressure of your wet lips on my anything made a silly sound. There is no right way and no wrong way.
“Good in bed,” what.
You’re good in my bed. I’m pleased you’re there. I feel it suits you.
Shove your technique. Let your memory swallow it. Fuck me like you’d fuck me, fuck me like you feel.
This isn’t a test.

– Lee M. (One of my friends on Facebook)

When I talk about ‘good sex’, I think I may be using the wrong terminology. I think what I really mean, is ‘enjoyable sex’. And to me, enjoyable sex is when two (or more) people feel comfortable in themselves and take pleasure in each other without hesitation or restraint. (Unless it is the good kind of restraint.)

To me, ‘bad sex’ is non-cohesive sex. And what I mean by that is if you aren’t taking true pleasure in each other, you’re just going through motions or doing what you ‘think’ each other should like without actually bothering to understand. Not taking notice of the other person’s reactions and not letting yourself respond openly.

While I also believe that planned/thoughtful sex can be lots of fun, I also believe that sex is not like some mapped out dance that needs to run like clockwork. It is a thing in it’s own; almost alive.

If he wants to grab a handful of my hair or grasp my nipples and leaves love bites on my shoulders, then he should. Because there is nothing that delights me more than someone taking unbridled pleasure from the joining of our bodies.

For me, the best, most enjoyable sex is the kind where you surrender yourself to your desire and fuck.


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