I’m continually impressed with the live-and-let-live attitude in the lifestyle, where it’s possible to create your own sexual manifesto as long as you don’t impose it on anyone else.
Having the freedom to explore and enjoy other people without obligations is an incredible relief after years of living with the cultural mindset that sex should be an exclusive act between two people who mean absolutely everything to each other.
Yet, as a single girl in the lifestyle, I’ve lately had the nagging notion that there’s an element still absent from the formula. It’s been like the experience of knowing that you’ve forgotten something, but not being able to remember what it is.
Then it hit me. What I’m missing is the act of making love, a feeling that is perhaps suddenly acute because my next realization was that I already know who I would like to be sharing that experience with.
Maybe it’s a girl thing, but for me the definitions for playing, having sex, fucking and making love are not interchangeable.
“Playing” as a euphemism for sex appealed to me instantly. It makes everything sound carefree and almost joyful. “Having sex” is in the same ballpark, but closer to being something entertaining, while “fucking” evokes intensity and visceral needs.
“Making love” has connotations that put it in a separate class. Depending on my mood, anyone that I care enough about to make love to, I can also play with, have sex with or fuck. But that doesn’t work in reverse.
Making love implies using my body to express emotional connectivity. Rough or gentle, vanilla or kink, it’s when the people involved can trust enough to be vulnerable. For me, it’s not so much about whether I can look someone in the eye when I climax. It’s if I know that in that moment, it’s also okay to let him see the emotion fueling it.
Even if a lover takes me to heights never before experienced, if the deeper feelings aren’t mutual, it might be phenomenal sex, Olympic fucking or lustful playtime, but it’s not making love.
It’s been years since I had a sexual encounter meeting my own definition of making love. It certainly didn’t happen in my last marriage, which ended 3 years ago.
Now that I’m in the lifestyle, I’m longing to whisper “make love to me” to the same person whose happiness means so much to me that I want him to experience the thrill and passion of being shared.
If only …
1 Comment
I can totally relate. Playing is certainly fun, but I do miss the connection that you feel when making love with someone. That feeling that they truly care about you, and that vulnerability that you feel with them, but that is okay because you trust them and know that they trust you back and care enough to look after you when you feel that way.