In This Body: Face to Face Fucking
“It’s about the most terrifying thing you could do with another person”
"In This Body" is comprised of true stories about sex, gender, the body, and love, written by Fiona George, for NAILED.
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My legs spread around a torso, one of many. My legs have wrapped themselves around hairy men, tall men, obese men, long lanky men, men with thick muscle. There’s a feeling of fitting, how easy they’ve moved in and out of me. The simplicity of wet and hard and want. A cock inside feels like it’s pushing my belly button from the inside, and for reasons I can’t explain this is the best feeling.
I am not present in this moment, or at least I don’t feel real. When my eyes roll back in my head and someone is pushing that button over and over. How it sends pleasure all the way to my finger tips and toes, like small lightning bolts through my blood vessels from my center, where I’m being entered. That button pushed. Hard. A drug the way I feel so outside of my body and still feel intensely in every nerve. So in touch with four senses, but sight escapes me. I feel above me.
It’s over too soon. It is always over too soon. It usually ends with a shake in my limbs and sweat drying on my skin, and a pulse of want through my body. Even after I run my body ragged in a tangle of limbs, I want. How you could eat till it hurts when the food is that good, and still want desert.
And I couldn’t tell you if I’ve come or not. It feels like I’ve had multiple orgasms, and also like I’ve kept myself from coming because I never want it to stop. Especially that special kind of fuck. With the right person, a person who I know, who has been inside me before. My walls have fallen down, I won’t hide behind my hair, or avoid eye contact. I will want to look them in the face when we fuck. It’s about the most terrifying thing you could do with another person, face-to-face fucking. Until it turns into the sexiest thing you could do with another person. That person.
And that, to know someone and to fuck. Fuck again. And again. To let go shamed and insecure thoughts a little more each time. To drive away that underlying fear that counters my want.
I don’t care anymore if I’m making a funny face when I come, if I come. Or if I can feel the fat of my stomach jiggle. Or if I haven’t shaved in a week. And I don’t worry anymore about whether or not I have an orgasm.
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This isn’t something I tell my sexual partners. Not one night-partners and not committed-relationship partners. Or, it’s never been something I’ve been able to say. ‘Cause it’s fucking embarrassing. I think I’m a pretty sex positive, sexually aware human being. But I don’t even know my own body well enough to tell when I come.
And I know the importance of communication about sex, even with one night stands. To be able to tell someone what I like. To be able to talk about the not-sexy parts of sex. To be able to talk about orgasm issues. Face-to-face. But I can’t.
In any case, I don’t. Maybe someday I’ll be comfortable enough to tell people on the first date. Or the first fuck. Or at least the first time someone asks if I’ve come.
Every time I can get a word out, it’s progress.
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I don’t know if I come or not, and I fall asleep wanting. But I always fall asleep wanting. When I’ve spent the night alone, whether I’ve written, or cleaned, just smoked some weed and watched a movie, or masturbated to orgasm repeatedly, I fall asleep wanting. But something about after a face-to-face fuck. The moment before you pull apart, when you pulse and shake together, weak with pleasure. To have a person next to you in bed, to fall asleep with an arm around you, pressed against the warmth of a body. It leaves a bigger part of me satisfied.
Comfort and safe and trust for the arms that are around me, the skin against mine.
And I almost talk about my orgasm issues, the not-sexy parts of my sexuality. It almost slips out like it isn’t even difficult to say. But it is difficult. And I can’t let it slip out.
Until it does slip out, because it will.
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Header image courtesy of Alyssa Monks. To view a gallery of her paintings, go here.
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