There is a Moment in each Day that Satan cannot find
Nor can his Watch Fiends find it, but the Industrious find
This Moment & it multiply, & when it once is found
It Renovates every Moment of the Day if rightly placed.
–W. Blake
I’ll be honest: It was not my finest performance.
The day was so chaotic that I’d not even had time to anticipate the date adequately, which meant that instead of arriving half-wet half-way to the knees I entered his house stressed out, out of sorts and bearing enough barely restrained rage to wipe out a city block.
Wine helped, as did ten-thousand orgasms, but when the time came to suck his cock the rhythm in my head and that of my mouth could not be reconciled. I bobbled and jerked, and if my teeth came in contact with sensitive skin once I’d consider him lucky. Very lucky indeed.
No one had their best night, yet when we were done the pleasure of talking and stroking and intertwining legs was not diminished from the stresses of the day; right before I left he pulled me into his chest for a long moment during which the skin-on-skin comfort made me think I would never be out of sorts again.
The moment was rightly placed.
If only sex were just about orgasms we could all stay home1 and buzz or stroke our way into an ecstasy far less messy than what comes from a relationship, but who would choose the lack of mess if it also meant the loss of moments rightly placed?
Would you?
- or married [↩]
You’re human. You’re not going to be at your best every night. Neither is he. But as long as you enjoyed your time together, it was more than worthwhile.
Life intervenes. We all have our off nights.
Hear hear! YES!
Remember this male saying: Even when the sex is bad, it’s still pretty damn good.
Hear Hear!
No matter how power the orgasm, no machine can take the place of warm skin against warm skin, of being enclosed in the arms of another person. The human touch is without equal.
You’re right, but you made me think of that Tea Party woman’s argument for why masturbation is wrong, that if you let people (men) masturbate, if he could give himself that pleasure, then why would he need her? I think I got there via Figleaf’s post.