The joy of relaxing friendly sex

Holly of The Pervocracy wrote a great post about the unsung art of relaxing sex.

There's parts of sex that don't get a lot of publicity. Publicity seems to be mostly for either mushy loving sex or, more often, wild monkey sex. But when in book or movie or pornography do they talk about the joy of relaxing friendly sex?

Wednesday night, I gave Brandon a thirty-minute blowjob. It wasn't furiously passionate (I've only got about ten minutes of continuous furypassion in me, I need to work out more or something), it was more like an intense kind of cuddling. We were talking the whole time.

...

It's unambiguously sexual to have a man's hard penis in your mouth, I guess. But there was no moaning, no thrusting or headgrabbing, no dirty talk, barely any acknowledgment that we were doing anything but lying in bed together. No pressure to do it faster, better, harder, finish it up already. Just keep doing that as long as you like.

Read the rest of her post here.

I'd like to say she beat me to the punch but to be honest while I keep meaning to post something along these lines it's been months since I first thought about it, and it might have been many more before I ever got around to posting about it myself. I'm glad she did though, because relaxing, friendly sex really is underrepresented in song and story but it's just... so... cool!

My version of her story might have be something like lying together end to end on crumpled sheets on a just-too-warm, sunny afternoon, each partner's head cradled on the inside of their partner's out-turned thigh, maybe talking or listening to acoustic music on the local college station, maybe even reading to each other, each partner's spare hand slowly, desultorily tracing, stroking the other's body or just rolling your head to the side to gaze at, smell, nuzzle, or mouth your partner... just enough to keep her lips full and wet or to keep him full and fat... but not so much to lose their train of thought. For long anyway.

Or my version of the story might have been leaning back in an old-fashioned armless rocker, a partner lazily straddling me, her arms around my neck, her head on her arms, my one hand on the small of her back and another at the small of her neck, feeling each other's chests rising and falling as we breathe, our telling each other awful puns or stories about things we did during childhood summers, with breaks for slow, lazy, but extremely pleasant stirring of interlocked parts, the joints of the rocker (and maybe the old hardwood subfloor) supplying the sighs and groans we ourselves were too lazily enraptured to produce.

Sigh! It's so much harder to find time for that now in the summertime than it used to be. So worth it when you can.