Anyone can do that

I am sitting around chatting with my friend, David, and he says out of nowhere in particular, “Anyone can fuck.”

He says this in a kind of condescending dismissive fashion, like, “why settle?”

We go on to agree with each other that exceptional sex occurs above the neck. It’s easy to just fuck, but having our head engaged and connected with our lover is what makes for remarkable sex. That’s our opinion anyway, and it’s a developing opinion, a change from our notions in our more youthful days. And it’s quite a statement coming from David, given that he loves to fuck.

Later, I am sitting in a circle of female friends and our conversation is about being present, right here, right now, and the talk spins somehow to the topic of being present during sex (or not). And we all end up confessing (well, it seems like a confession) that we have an abundance of experience with not truly being present during sex, not really being connected to our lover.

And I chime in at some point with my current sermon that Good Sex is the key to Happiness, and that the key to Good Sex is Authenticity. (I think you can follow the logic embedded here, that if A requires B and B requires C, then A requires C–happiness relies upon authenticity, and there’s the bonus of good sex in between.)

I tell my friends how I am on a quest these days to bring myself more fully into the now (and drag myself out of my noisy, distracting thoughts). I have decided to try engaging my body more, pursuing extraordinary sensory experiences as a way of unveiling more of my true self. There is a large range of possibility here–for I have five senses–any of which I could load-up with intense experience: fine dark chocolate, Tuning the Air, walks in the chilly sunrise.

Of course my bondage adventures align with my quest–the physical sensations on many levels: color, texture, pressure, pain, even the thunk of a coil of rope landing on a cement floor.

So, I tell my friends just a bit about some time I spent awhile ago with a man who understands and dispenses sensory intensity. I don’t give them many details, but try to convey that a high-stim experience indeed took me out of my thinking mind, and made me keenly aware of my body and very connected to myself; I was taken very, very much into the present moment.

And I did not go on to elaborate for them the sexual experience that evolved in the encounter–the arousal that rose to encompass all parts of me, from my tiptoes to the synapses in my pretty little brain. An arousal that rolled into uncensored and all encompassing orgasms that would possess me, sometimes for just a breathe or two, sometimes much longer–repeatedly over the course of two hours.

∞

Something I have contemplated since that night, is how so many of my orgasms were triggered in my mind. Multiple times I would look at this man–his legs or ass or arms or neck–really taking in his physical presence, his existence–and then waves of pleasure would erupt within me. Or I would recall something he had done to me–how he had touched me, manipulated my body, or the words and the warmth of his breath as he had whispered in my ear–and the waves would tumble through me again.

∞

I keep thinking about David’s comment, that anyone can fuck. I ponder the intensity of my body’s response to my thoughts when I was with this man. There was certainly a cycle of my body’s response arousing my mental response, and that response arousing my body even further. And there is absolutely the fact that it was my initial mental response to this man that brought me to a physical connection with him.

When I was younger, I was frequently happy to just fuck–”just fuck” as in, 80% of the stimulation occurring below the neck, no dynamic connection or engagement above the neck. (Okay, excluding kissing, which is technically above the neck, but for purposes of this discussion, it counts as below the neck :)

But anymore “just fucking” is just not enough for me. I suppose that makes me not much of a modern girl, I don’t know, but frankly I kind of don’t really care. What makes me soar is that which makes my heart soar–and connections are what make my heart soar, or experiences based upon connections.

Maybe I will change my mind about this. Maybe I will acquire a sex life that is so steeped in connections that I will be satiated, and feel comfortable wandering off into zipless fucks. But that’s not my pursuit.

And my recent experience wherein I found myself triggering multiple orgasms with my thoughts alone (albeit, after some serious all-over stimulation, but still . . .), it just fuels my quest for fucking-above-the-neck, before I fuck below the waist.