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v u l v a l i c i o u s you're begging please Here I am, several years into my celibate lifestyle, writing a sex scene. Sometimes I feel like I am separate people when it comes to sex: one who isn't really interested, who thinks about everything it takes to lay the groundwork for actually fucking someone in a way that's satisfying (not a one off or a rollaround with someone hot who you'd never actually be interested in). My ace (grey? demi?) side. The person who, if given a choice between having sex with a random person and lying in bed doing literally nothing at all, would always, always pick doing nothing. And then there's the other person, who I think of in a lot of ways as my younger self. Aching and hungry and needy and uncomfortably sexual. She wants to drown in the pressure of a cunt against her face, fuck until her body stops working and then sleep and then wake up to fuck more. She can conjure up the image of a tit to suck on or a cock to swallow with lightning speed and precision. She's a slut, always. I'm in there somewhere, I guess. Or both of them are in me, maybe. It's hard to say. But sometimes I think: I might not ever have sex again. And it hurts and I feel sad, and this part of me is reaching out and yelling that what I've just thought sounds way too much like giving up. And another part of me shrugs and says, "maybe so, babe," because that's how it goes. There's always a last time for things, and we so rarely get to know when it is. The last time you kiss a lover goodbye with nothing but love in your heart, the last time you talk to someone before they die too soon, the last look you get at the friend who slowly grows apart from you once they leave. So. Yeah. If that's the case my last time having sex was good, but not great. With a friend in their hotel room in a fancy silicon valley town. We had a date first and went dutch. I drove back to go to work the next day. And that was that. I think they got into a more serious relationship with one of their boos. Who knows? We still send each other heart eye emojis on instagram and one time they told me they still think about the first time we had sex (which wasn't that time). I need to go back to writing this sex scene. Channel the part of me that is always already on my knees. |