The following is what I remember many years ago when I asked the question...
* * *
-=[ How Does it Feel? ]=-
So quiet now.
Soften yourself and listen.
Connected and motionless.
To the symphonic pulsing of our blood,
the crash of an eyelid,
the joyous trickle of a bead of sweat.
Yup, in my naïveté, while I was in her, I asked the question and she looked at me in that singular way of hers -- that “look” that only experience and time can bestow on a woman’s beauty -- and she said…
I would love to tell you how it feels.
When I’m riding you out to the stars and your body is clustered in a point, and then it rockets away from you on waves of pleasure. I guess the ocean best expresses it best. The smell. The origin there: conceived and then burst into a billion cells. What I mean is we’ve all been intimate with the most profound creative experience: we’ve all been born.
I think that the people who are lost, that’s what they’re really most lost from. And sex. That is one of the simplest and most thrilling ways to get it back again…
Sometimes I think if I could make love once a week, that would take care of it. But then when that someone is around, I mean someone that I have feelings for, then I want to do it more. And then I think it’s mostly for affection. Then the coming -- the orgasm part -- is different. It’s a level that can be utterly satisfying, but I don’t have to have the stars. If I don’t need to come, I don’t. Then there are days when I wake up, and I know that at a certain point someone’s going to touch me on the shoulder, and I’m going to quake. There are those degrees. There’s that certain kind of thing that doesn’t make you knock your knees. And then the one that grabs you so hard and takes you all the way there. I think it’s the easiest way to understand a state of grace. And then when you begin to scream and shout because you know I’ve got it, then that’s the best. I’ve met very few men who can adequately gauge a wave.
To be honest, I came to the point where I really didn’t care to make love to a lot of men because it takes so long to learn someone in that way. It always manages to feel like such a struggle, and then the best are almost always the ones you’re going to love exponentially.
I used to be so afraid of being sexy. Now it really tickles me. I like to get to the point where I can wear a slip. It still takes me a while to get completely down. And I really only can with someone I like a lot. It’s like a dance. There’s the step you do for yourself. And the step you do for your lover. And the step for the audience too.
I guess certain people like certain things. I knew one who would grab my hair just above the wedge and pretend that he was going to touch that in the triangle there. I loved that feeling of a tease. It wasn’t technique. It was as if he were learning to play an instrument well.
Most men will tell you that the biggest thrill is to make it good for a woman and I can see how they would think that. I’d really like to know what other people feel.
Kissing is my favorite part.
I like to stop before it all explodes and just lie together, breathing together, like we are now. If I close my eyes and concentrate on what the space in pussy is holding, I can feel like I have a penis. It’s like being both sexes at the same time. And it is. [we both laugh at this]
Society definitely conditions us to be shy. I mean women. I think about those studies about women’s sexual peaks at thirty and I bet it really has more to with it actually taking a decade to overcome a certain kind of timidity or shame.
Before I called you that first time, I thought about you passionately for days. Then I called my friend and asked for your number and then I called you and casually invited you to meet me. I was practically throwing up. The first time I had done something like that, the man in question couldn’t deal with me being the instigator, or taking matters into my own hands, and he misread me, got all insecure, or maybe he saw me as a slut. I don’t know, I just know I lost interest then. It did help me understand the social aspect of the dating scene -- what men have to go through. Meet a girl, make a date, get laid. It’s terrifying. On the flip side, women are expected to ride along submissively, being sexually ignored, ungratified, or abused.
Until one day maybe she sees a freshly washed sheet on the clothesline with the dry air blowing through it and she decides that’s the way she wants to feel…