There was something different about Tommy. When we were together in bed, it was like being with your clone in the sexiest way it’s possible to imagine that scenario. I was used to being the soft one — the affectionate giver who derives a kind of totally relaxing joy from making the object of her love feel good. Tommy was the first guy who was right there with me on this front.
When spent the night together we rarely went to bed before the sun came up. There was too much to be done. Too much touching, too much pleasuring, too many times we needed to press our mouths to each other and stop to inhale the scent of someone we loved being with.
This was all new and great, but we spent months together during which I never felt that animal heat that you’re supposed to feel for a man. We were too slow and too available to each other for me to ever experience the ohmygodiwanthimrightthefucknow that had defined all my past sexual relationships. This one felt healthier, better, safer — but I was worried I’d have to trade in excitement for it, and I wasn’t sure that was a price I was willing to pay.
I’ll be the first to say that while we were more comfortable with each other and more alike than most couples, our communication wasn’t that great. We’re both accommodating and laid back to a fault, so I wasn’t just going to approach him and say “I’m worried our sex life isn’t hot and dirty enough”. Besides, the worst thing you can do about not mind-blowing sex is have a conversation about the not mind-blowing sex. I came up with a plan to fix it myself instead.
First of all, I needed to make him completely comfortable with every animal urge he had. I became extra cognizant of not turning him down when the urge to hook up struck. Blow jobs became a kind of whenever, wherever thing, as I made it clear I was always down. (And to anyone who worries this isn’t very feminist, I think it’s fundamentally toxic to keep score about who’s getting who off more, but yes — he got me off good and regularly and I was completely satisfied with the reciprocity on that front).
One night when he came over I made sure all my curtains were pulled and lit an obscene amount of candles. I lived in an apartment building surrounded by a lot of other apartment buildings and with nothing blocking my giant windows at night, you could see right in when there was enough light (hence the candles). I thought this was give us an extra edge when we inevitably started getting handsy in the middle of our movie. After a few minutes of touching and kissing I straddled him, pulled off my shirt and let him enjoy the fact that anyone paying attention in the building across the way was now treated to a nice view of his face buried in my boobs.
That felt primal. I could tell it woke something up in him a bit. Soon he flipped me on my back, removed my pants, and was eating me out in full view of the neighbors.
Second of all, I made sure I expressed extra excitement in situations in which he was in control. This was easy, all I was doing was being more transparent about my organic emotions. For instance, I’d try to work it out so I’d be giving him head while he was standing or sitting, versus both of us being in bed. I sent him text messages about how I thought about his cock while I got myself off. I low key made him feel worshipped for his body.
Third, I showed him what I wanted.
I grabbed fistfulls of his hair when I kissed him. When I went down on him I worked to get to that place where he was almost sliding into my throat, and I could feel how that excited him. I’d put his hands on my head and encourage him to play with my hair and soon he was pulling my hair where he wanted me and using his hips to pump himself into my mouth with a self-assurance that I’m sure made me feel more wet than normal.
This is where things really started to click into place.
Tommy was more vibrant, more assertive, more masculine. He came on to me all the time which made me feel sexy and desired. Good as our sex life has always been, we both felt more alive in it now. The electricity that had been lacking was taking over. Every time we touched, there was a spark that said Ineedyoutofuckme.
This is what I needed to have happen. I realized it wasn’t the rough sex of past relationships that I missed, it was that specific feeling of being with someone who had to have me. The occasional knowledge that he was so into me he was abandoning social norms and pretense because the urge was so overwhelming he was far past the point of caring. That intoxicating feeling of having the power to drive someone wild is what makes the world go ‘round.
I’m most satisfied in my partner when they are most satisfied with me. The work I needed to do was just to make the manifestations of that satisfaction a bit louder. With more punctuation. Screams instead of murmurs, at least once in awhile.