They rule, don’t they? Such wonderful little experiences. They’re extra fun to have with a partner, too. I’m lucky enough to be having them with a partner again myself, for the first time in nearly a year–back in the early days of my last relationship when my ex was still willing to endure the incredible struggle that is touching my clitoris a couple times a month. I digress.
I’m tough to get off though, so I’m very appreciative of the time and effort a man has to spend to make me come. It requires a lot of communication, persistence, and pretty good lighting so we can both see what’s going on down there. Most men aren’t as dedicated as my special guy, and I’m grateful for it. He’s willing to spend significant periods of time massaging my clit like his life depends on it, and he’s very open and receptive to suggestions. A lot of women aren’t as fortunate in that regard, because a lot of men just don’t care enough.
There’s much more to sex than an orgasm, too. There’s all the glory of passion, degradation, vulnerability, power. When I’m getting a good fucking, I’m not concerned about coming, because I’m having too much fun just being ravaged. Still, it’s a special kind of wonderful being spread-legged on the bed, laying back and letting someone go to work on your parts. Or, sitting up and getting in there yourself, showing them where and how it feels good, and looking into their eyes when they finally bring you off. If only everyone could be so lucky.