Thursday, 16 July 2009

Making Love

As you may have already gathered, even ladies like me like to be made love to. Yes, that's right, and let me say it again: made love to.

You may very well be able to whisper those vicious nothings in that dulcet tone, and how wonderful it is that you aren't afraid to slap my face so hard that my eyes water. You should be giving yourself an extra-special congratulations if you are a man who has ever managed to make me cry. No, not by bludgeoning me with that big stick, you dolt, by getting into my head. My head is awful hard to get into. And if you do, it's not always the most comfortable of places to be. Some of my penchants for emotional fucking are a little out of most people's comfort zones. Nevertheless, you don't have to convince me that I am the worst person in the world, or that you have just killed my kitten to make me cry. All you have to do is take a part of me away. Because I promise you, every time a man truly penetrates those barriers, (the ones that are so invisible, most people don't even realise they are there), the tears will fall. Everytime I am taken to that place, the one where the line between consensual and non-consensual becomes questionable, I lose a little of myself.

So, you may have been there, done that, but can you make love?

And here's the thing. I don't do one-night-stands. When single, I'll occasionally fuck a friend or two, and I'll fuck a regular play-partner, if I have one (though, that kinda counts as a friend too). When in a relationship, I'll fuck my boy/man a lot, and depending on the nature of the relationship, the rest of the fucking still applies. The point is, almost all sexual activity that I engage in involves an expression of love, fondness, affection... whatever you want to call it. In short, I need a degree of emotional exchange to get off. In that sense, you could say that I am always making love.


Firstly, making love = in love. We have to be in love with each other for this to be working. Secondly, and this is not a rigid requirement, I like my love-making served up unadorned, nothing added, nothing taken away. No whips, chains, impossibly large insertables.* In the past, my love-making has been notable by its complete lack of power dynamic. I am not dominating him, he is not dominating me. (Truth be told, even when engaging in the most normal sex, there is usually some sort of subbie/dommie spin I am creating in the privacy of my head). But I find the sheer wondrousness of the art of love-making so arousing that I don't need my kinky little foibles to have an orgasm. And please note, the lack of power dynamic is not deliberate, it just happens naturally. I should also make it clear that it would be impossible for people to do certain kinky things to me unless I loved them. And indeed, (as has been said), those acts are an expression of love.
But there is something inherently different about the way a man looks at me when he is making love to me. And I am fairly sure that he can see it in my eyes too. It is a look that is difficult to put into words. One that speaks of a want, need, not just for your lover's body, but for their mind and everything that they are. As if, for those fleeting moments, (before animalistic passion takes over, as it often does...), you could absorb, or breathe, the other person into yourself. After all, they are inside you, all over you.
And the eyes are so very important here. Your eyes should not break with mine. As you slowly push inside of me, I want to feel your eyes penetrate me as well. In addition to the word "eyes", another key word is "slowly". I am aware that this may shock some of you who know me well. After all, I am the girl that it seems impossible to fuck too hard and too fast. But may I remind you, we are not "fucking".
Nobody is saying that we can't speed things up a little in a moment. Slower is better for now. It allows one to fully appreciate the non-verbal exchange that is taking place. And this is another surprise. I am a great lover of aural sex (one of the quickest ways inside my head, if you do it right). However, due to my artistic temperament, I am highly emotionally charged, so when this love-making business occurs in just the right fashion, I am pretty much lost for words. And there are only three I have a need for at this point, "I love you".

*Important clarification: Obviously, if I am making love to a man, I do actually need an insertable strapped to my person, but it does not have to be impossibly large.


  1. The moment when you realize you want to make love to someone - not just fuck them, not just play kinky little games - it's rare, but when it happens, it's possibly the most intense thing I've experienced.
    And you're right about the eyes, the words - though I'm not sure about impossibly large insertables.

  2. Well, I did state a preference for not having them... hehehe.

  3. Great post and your clarification at the end made me laugh out loud.

  4. Thanks JennyMac. Well, one does have to make things clear...

  5. So eloquent, Maisie. Fucking happens all the time, but 'making love' is rare and beautiful. Although I have to say that I think a woman can make love to a man without the need for insertion of anything into him. After all, the definition of 'sex' is not limited solely to penetration...

  6. @Teacup: Why, thank you. (And thank you for all the comments!) And you are completely right, there is no need for penetration by either party for love-making. It's not all about the phallus, boys!
    I just have a certain passion for making love with a strap-on, which most people recoil at and ask : How could that possibly be romantic? I feel a blog coming on.


You kiss your mother with that mouth?