I am filled with time and again
with heart-aching thoughts
when I think
of the fire
and frost of memories
of the everlastingness touch,
We thought everything would be
forgotten, but I still remember your
fingers running down my neck.
“Chemistry“ was him touching my mind. He was the fire in which I wanted to be burnt. He started with my mind, taking the time to read my thoughts, to who I am. He foreplay-ed with my mind. The mind is the path and body is the destination of a union.
He then gently ran his fingertips along the edges of my body, first learning and exploring where the sharp unexpected edges are and then reveling in the feel of each curve; the curves of the waist, the slant of the neck. His gentle caress reminded me that I have ample curves in my body. Now it no longer matters that my thighs touch when I walk. I like my flab.
He lifted his head; the sight of his dark, disheveled hair; eyes glinting with the hope of a moth that is fatally attracted to the lamplight, eager to surrender himself in the flames of love. The gorgeous spread of his thick shoulders tapering down to the narrow thrust of his hips, made my ovaries ache deep in my lower abs. Desire transforms you and transcends you from being fearful to fearless; from being confined to being open and accepting.
“I wanted to taste myself on his fingers”
He touched me like he owns me! Yes, I want to be owned. Yes, I want to belong to him. You are like a god, as an immortal one,’ I whispered to him, my naked body pressed to him, our sweat golden and glistening in the candlelight. ‘Oh, my angel,’ he whispered back to me, ‘You are more mortal than all and a part of me dies every night – I lie with you’.
Every single inch of our body pressed against each other and still, I said ’pull me closer’.
There was a long, feeble sound expressing pleasure, his name that still resides in that moment. My whole body was tingling with pleasure. That echo is engraved inside those 4 closed distempered walls as a remnant of our love.
After the connection is made, words cease to exist.
The conversation between my finger and his skin was the most important discussion. Long, low sounds of tender moaning resound me still from the memories of being held inside his well-defined, broad shoulders. My face sliding along his strong arms and rubbing over his brawny back, my slender arms holding his gorgeous male body against mine.
“It started from eyes that never lies !… A pleasure which left an untouched Treasure”.
Agree it was “Sexual pleasure”, a passion to which all others are subordinate but in which they all unite. Only an observant, who discovers the person they have always dreamed of will know -“Sexual energy comes to play even before sex even takes place. The greatest pleasure isn’t sex, but the passion with which it is practiced. When the passion is intense, then sex joins in to complete the dance, but it is never the principal aim.”
BUT —–SEX IS EMOTION IN MOTION
“Sex isn’t good unless it means something. It doesn’t necessarily need to mean “love” and it doesn’t necessarily need to happen in a relationship, but it does need to mean intimacy and connection. Without that connection, good sex can be good, but nothing beats having your brain intoxicated with love hormones. NOTHING.
There exists a very fine line between being sexually liberated and being sexually used. ”Read through most feminists and you will find underneath there is a woman who longs to be a sex object, the difference is that is not all she longs to be.”
Sexual liberation is a power that can transform life, here a sense of trust is important. Our sexuality is really built around a longing for acceptance and the communion that this acceptance allows. We get erotically excited by deeply tender things – even in the midst of words and actions that look quite aggressive. Being sexually liberal, one experiences a profound mental and psychological phenomenon or meeting of two minds & souls – enacted with the help of a vehicle called the body.
On the other hand, being sexually used is a purely physiological stimulation and it is not about acceptance – often leading to loneliness. It is inversely proportional to fulfillment or emotional satisfaction, the other person is just as a tool or means of (attempted) sexual pleasure, and nothing more. We generally urge for such sexual activities to overcome our insecurities which have resulted from our own failures in different aspects of life. This leads us to commoditize SEX and deriving material pleasure from it.
We often feel sexually used or maybe we allow ourselves to be used – sexually, when knowingly or unknowingly we try to help the other person who is trying to overcome his or her deep-rooted insecurities; we tend to be with the person as we fail to understand the value of our own emptiness(peace) thus replacing it with a mere desire to be with the outer personality of the other person which more overwhelming. The learning I had from my experiences of being sexually liberal and being sexually used is that
“You should not make love when you really don’t feel it as there’s nothing worse you can do to yourself than that.”
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