The Appetizer to Ecstasy: Why Foreplay is the True Main Course
Understanding this crucial ingredient in the recipe of sexual intimacy.
Whenever he kisses me goodbye, I snake my hand between his thighs and give him a gentle squeeze. He always shoots me a sly, knowing grin, his celestial blues twinkling like stars. This is how foreplay always starts with us while the other is leaving.
It's a ritual of sorts, and it never fails to get my heart racing. We make each other feel wanted despite the miles between us.
Foreplay is EVERYTHING that happens before sex.
Some mornings, I write fiction. Dirty, erotic, smutty stories birthed on the fringe of my imagination. He is my muse, inspiration, and the spark that ignites many of the words I pen.
On most days, my pussy is practically drooling by the time I finish the final paragraph. And when we're together, I take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. My compulsion to scratch this creative itch is his advantage.
During morning fiction, I start the foreplay without him, and he gets to reap the benefits.
But for him, foreplay is an invitation. He revels in the freedom of exploration and experimentation. His arousal thrives when my creativity comes out to play, and his passion for my passion spills into the bedroom.
I can feel his anticipation growing as he eagerly awaits whatever comes next. We both know that when my creative engine revs up, it will take us on a wild ride.
The stories my mind creates always end with bursts of shared pleasure. His anticipation gets rewarded, and my creative itch is always satisfied. It's a beautiful thing — two minds in perfect sync.
As I write these words, my vulva tingles. I can feel beads of sweat on my forehead, and I can't wait to get to the bedroom. The writing isn't over yet. There's still more to come.
Even this is foreplay.
The sexual novice relishes the convenience of fast food and drive-thrus.
But I've spent enough time in the kitchen to know that you can't start cooking before you warm up the stove.
What kind of chef saves all the flavor for the final bite?
I believe that every consenting adult, who enjoys sex, should know the joy of flushed skin and engorged flesh. They should feel the spicy rush of adrenalin, the electric spark that ignites every touch —and savor every mouthful.
Because what's the point of eating for pleasure if you overlook the aromas, flavor, and hidden delicacies along the way?
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