Sex is about yourself, about self-dicovery, self-satisfaction. It's about power and confidence. It is in many ways, selfish. It's a journey where there destination - the climax, the orgasm - is the ultimate goal. There's a lot of excitement, a lot of rush and impatience.
Making love, on the other hand, is about cherishing another person. It's about succumbing your control. Excitement is replaced with tenderness, respect, admiration and affection. You are happy to just caress, pplant light kisses alll over him, and study every nook of his body. You gaze into his eyes and you are overcome with emotions but lost for wards at the same time. It's a journey that has no end, and one that you wish would not end. It is slow
We made love last night, three times over. It was not the normal hard and raw sex that we normally have. It was full of tenderness. He just lied there, on top of me, inside me, and just looked and looked at me.
God forbid, I love this man.
To say this bring tears to my eyes. Because I just cannot bring myself to say this to him.
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