It’s nothing to be angry about
These are all we have.
Narazgi ki baat nahin hain
Yeh pal hain,
Saath yahi hain.
(Mere yaar by Advaita)
I wonder if we have sex for the pleasure of the orgasm, or if we have sex so that we can get some of the tenderness that (supposedly and ideally) comes before and after the act. The holding, the touching, the gentle feeling, the comfort in snuggling up to another, the languishing with a rather satiated sense of fatigue…
Nothing is tenderer, or at times more erotic, than having your face cradled in a palm that feels like it WANTS to touch you. Or have a tentative finger run slowly up your skin, feeling its smoothness, toying with its texture. Touches that linger, that are not hurried to unclasp something or strip something else. Feeling skin against your skin… the leathery texture of the palm, the soft hair on the arms, the prickliness of the evening stubble, the roughness of the soles, the power in the calves, the width of a thigh, the smoothness of a chest that can be crushed against… Sigh. Of course this is the female perspective!
At times, you can feel it bottled up inside -- the passion, the energy, the need for physical exertion -- you can feel it bubbling within, simmering, seething and then threatening to explode in one, big, noisy rapture. You will feel it tingling right under your dermis. It's like craving a kiss. One, long, devouring kiss that makes the head swim, the breathing difficult and sucks the soul out. And of course that’s not possible with everyone who you kiss, so I wonder.
I wonder if one waits for the connection to get sex or should one just jump into bed: Instant gratification instead of imaginary satisfaction? What's the take?