What do you think about when you hear the word sex?
For most, I bet itâs the moaning.
The golden lining of waists and hips being mined for the first time.
For some, it might be the kissing.
Their lips softer than the nights before.
Their lips rougher than the nails gripped into your back like #2 pencils finding comfort in old manual sharpeners versus new electronic ones. You have to work for it, right?
Some soft, some rough.
Some sweet good morning,
some angry after an argument.
Some with laughter,
some after tears.
The sweating that gives you the thought
âis this mine or is it hers?â
What is the best part about sex?
I bet most would say, the orgasm.
It is not.
Far from it.
I.) The build up, the foreplay, & the tension.
The selfish and selfless teasing.
The lowkey this is exciting smile.
The faces losing control
of all expression.
The bodies soft movements
between hands
gently moving to
where it doesnât belong
to where you want them.
II.) The aftermath, the cuddle & the nap.
The wave of euphoric desires
long passed and youâll sleep
as teaspoons and sugar cubes.
Simmering in a new cup of tea;
warm and added milk.
Your relaxed bodies stirring
the feelings of home, safety
and your favorite song,
your bodies at rest
and them in your arms;
all mixed into a warm
cup of tea composed of
wet bedsheets and
not knowing whose
arm is whose and
whose leg was hanging
off the bed because
it was way too hot
and sweaty under
the blanket.
You see, the act of sex.
The in between.
The hair grabbing.
The scratched backs.
The chest needing attention.
The necks because weâre vampires.
The hands not knowing where to feel next.
The tug of war motion.
The cramps from running marathons
while laying down.
The sweat from jogging a bridge in the middle of winter because the fan is on, but it sure feels like summer even if your windows are open and the rain covers the sounds of passion.
The sweat is confusion and peace finding a home on top of your skin.
The giggles because they made a cute mistake and itâs one you could live with.
Itâs one that was needed from your long day.
The tears if youâre a first timer.
The warmth of how bodies join together;
your bodyâs way of holding hands.
Your innocence shaking hands and hugging sin for minutes and lasting up to four hours for some; or the whole day.
However your drive goes.
Itâs different for everyone,
women to men,
women to women,
& men to men.
It matters not.
The middle part is not the best.
It is a blur. It is the bottle not the liquor.
It is the pill and not the chemicals inside.
It is the lamp and not the light provided.
It is the candle and not the scent given off.
It is the blue line of college rule paper,
but not the words written by a writer.
It is crucial, but it is also
the part where most get lost in.
I know I did.
Have you?
They call it lust.
The misplacement of trust
and the lack of communication.
The longing for skin
more than that personâs heart.
Itâs more than reaching down their pants
or failing to unhook her bra
because you could never wrap
your head around the mechanics
of such a wonderful invention.
I know some men might read this
and go; god, this guy is soft.
Aight, go ask her right now. Go.
Ask her to name the best part.
It wasnât how your tongue
could spell the alphabet
backwards, okay thatâs
pretty dope,
but sheâll always
put foreplay and
cuddling above it.
Well, unless sheâs a freak,
but Iâm sure they love
the embracing parts too.
Who doesnât want to feel safe
after being that open?
That vulnerable?
That honest?
To truly share yourself with someone
from heart, mind, soul and body;
If you can make them feel safe afterwards,
the orgasms will only be a minor detail
to this perfect painting they call making love.
I promise.
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