I’ve known him for years. I should clarify. Many years ago we slept together for an entire summer. Neither one of us went to bed sober much those days. We never dated. We never went to dinner or watched a movie or hung out. But we slept together. And we slept together often.
Then it just. Stopped. I don’t remember why. He thinks I met someone (I didn’t.) He thinks maybe he met someone. (He did.)
So, we stopped sleeping together. I found someone else, or many someone else’s, to fill the hole (heh, no pun intended). I didn’t think about him. Like, ever. Well, maybe once or twice, but not with longing. His name would just randomly pop into my head and I’d think “oh yeah, that guy…” And that was that.
Until recently. We reconnected (I’m looking at you, Tinder). He was just as good looking as I remember. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Smooth skin. Tall. Sculpted. Persian. Next thing you know, I’m in his bed, we’re pulling at each other’s clothes.
Five years ago we had such great rhythm. We were synchronized. We moved from position-to-position seamlessly and without effort. It was easy and it was good and we were drunk. Or high. Or both. Most likely both. This time though, it was different. We couldn’t find our rhythm. The sex was meh. But I knew I’d be back. And I knew he’d be back.
A week later I walked into his house and said “alright, let’s do this,” marched towards his room, peeling my clothes off as I went. He followed at my heels, ready to tear off what I’d left on. And holy shit what happened next was the clichéd fireworks. I haven’t been fucked like that since, well I don’t really know and it doesn’t really matter. We found the rhythm. We found the movements. Our bodies finally remembered how to work together. And worked together they did. Hot, sweaty, thigh shaking, ass smacking, hair pulling, neck-biting sex. And afterwards he said “that was amazing,” held his hand up for a high-five and I obliged. My first post-coital high-five.
So what happened the second time that made it so much better than the first? I took control. And I communicated. I told him what I wanted. I encouraged him when he was doing that felt oh so good. “Yeah, baby. Don’t stop, don’t stop. Keep doing that. Fuuuuck, this feels so good.” I redirected him when he was doing something that just wasn’t working for me. “Do this. Right there. Yes, there. Fuuuck, this feels so good.” And when I started telling him what I wanted, he started telling me what he wanted. We communicated. I decided I didn’t want another round of bad sex. And although he’s the kind of guy that just wants to get laid regardless of the quality, he LIKED that I told him what I wanted. Because I took control and made myself clear, we had amazing sex.
From this point forward let’s stop making assumptions. Let’s stop having subpar sex. Let’s start having amazing sex. Let’s start communicating our wants and our needs and encourage our partners to do whatever it is that gets us going. Let’s start communicating what doesn’t really work. But let’s also keep in mind that this goes both ways. Don’t focus only on you. Oftentimes I will do something that I don’t particularly enjoy solely because the guy I’m with DOES and I love giving pleasure as much as I enjoy receiving it. Everyone involved should be having an orgasmic time! Give and take. And communicate.
In case you were wondering, he and I had sex only once after the night of the high-five. Why? Because he wasn’t into performing oral. That’s a huge non-negotiable for me. Get down there and do work!