Calico, as usual, says things that not only turn me on immensely but also speak to me and inspire me to say more... this time, it was her post on deepthroating:

"I love challenging sex, like deepthroating and facefucking, because my partner and I need to be incredibly tuned in to each other’s bodies. Often we can read the other better than ourselves. I don’t realize I’m on the edge of gagging until he lifts his hips, feeling me tense, and I grab a needed breath. And when I realize from the trembling in his thighs that he is going to come, I can swallow him deeper for that one last thrust.

When I welcome a cock into my throat, it’s because I can’t get him close enough. Sometimes when we’re fucking and he’s inched into my cunt, pushing as far as he can go, I can press down on my abdomen and feel the shape of him. That’s a close second. He’s incorporated, a part rather than a visitor, like a new and necessary bone graft.

The vocabulary breaks down — it’s not enough to fuck. I want to subsume him."

Intimacy. Communicating so well you don't have to speak, it's all said in the eyes, the way you rise to a lover's fingertips or pull ever so slightly away. Moving, even for a little while, as one being. It sounds like hippie shit, but when you've been there, you know exactly what I mean. The feeling of just fitting, or things just being right.

I've been accused on more than one occasion, by more than one lover, of finding my intimacy within sex, depending on physical touch for my emotional connection. I've protested, said I find it other places too, etc, but... yeah. It's true. I think because, in sex, there's a purity to body language, and either you *know* each other or you don't. You don't *have* to have that unspoken bond to have great sex, mind... but man oh man, when you are so lucky as to just KNOW he'll let you breathe right before you safeword, if you can just... give... it... one... more... minute... it's ever more intense for me.

This intimacy isn't about the deepthroating or the fucking, though. It can be all sorts of moments- breathplay, tight bondage, an edgy roleplay or, as I discovered, even the strangely tender act of having your urine wiped from your labia for you so you don't have to be untied to pee... it's those moments where unspoken touch says endless volumes. And I don't know, I trust the language of the body more than anything said aloud. "Actions speak louder than words", indeed.

When I was reading "Watching the English", Kate Fox mentions that, in the act of sex, British people can let go for a while of their constraint- for a little while they are free to truly be themselves, outside of the social rules and norms or class and flirting rules and whatnot. Maybe that's why I clung to it as a way to reconnect, though that's certainly not exclusive to the Brits- makeup sex has a long tradition after all. I feel like, in the act of sex or play, I truly SEE the other person, they're vulnerable and raw and naked in a way that has nothing to do with their clothes. And I trust and respect that raw, unpeeled nugget on the inside of a person more than the armored outsides.

Maybe they feel frustrated because they feel how could I get that intimacy from them when they hadn't said anything. They don't have to, though- I can sense it in the way their fingertips graze my skin, the way our eyes meet and hold, the pressure of lips against lips. It's why I'm good at my job, though the sparks tend to go one way- I can read them, but keep myself collected and cool. But with a partner, there's an electricity that connects us in those moments that's next to impossible to replicate elsewhere.

Maybe that's why when I find a lover I communicate in that way with, someone who dances intimacy the way I do, it's so, so hard to let them go. It's a rare thing to find.