November 2010
The way a man fucks when he's in love, when he's completely interested,
when he's invested, is unparalleled. There's the lingering kisses on the
inner thigh, the way he skims a nape or lobe, making sure hands are
warm, the rhythm slows. He leans over a woman's back- his
forehead just grazing the small. Everything feels deeper; there is a
precious sync purposely at work.
When he isn't, a fuck is just a fuck; quick, self-gratifying, purposeless. The woman reduced to an act. Sloppy, impersonal.
There's nothing worse to me these days then that.
When he isn't, a fuck is just a fuck; quick, self-gratifying, purposeless. The woman reduced to an act. Sloppy, impersonal.
There's nothing worse to me these days then that.
