Something I’ve always maintained is that sex is only as good as the context you place it in. Pumping away at someone can be the least attractive thing in the world if you’ve done nothing to lead up to it, nothing to frame it in a way that makes it attractive. It’s just a physical action without the mental obsession behind it.
And Dominance, submission, and all that fun bondage is a way to provide some context. That’s not all it is, by a long shot, but in the moment, when you’re pumping away, doing that physical action, that is what’s driving you, and making it feel so fucking good. I’ve been known to obsess over cultivating that context, making sure it’s as powerful and perfect as I can.
But in the apex, the climactic moment, I can’t help but feel that that context is entirely irrelevant. In that moment, I can barely think, let alone hold in my mind everything that I’ve done to get myself to that moment. I’m not claiming to understand how the female mind processes an orgasm, but if it’s even remotely close to how my mind processes it, it’s an entire cessation of thought, at a fundamental level.
Well, maybe there’s one thought. It’s usually an expletive.
I’m not placing a huge amount of importance on that idea though, as interesting as I find it. Because sex isn’t about the climax, not really. The climax is (really (fucking)) great, but I can climax all on my lonesome. There’s a reason we look for someone to climax with. It’s better with two. And it’s better with a whole lot of context, a whole lot of foreplay, and a whole lot of framing.
Sex is in your mind, eating away at the frayed edges. It’s much better to just let it in and surround it with the things you love.