I can't stop thinking about how much sex actually reflects the relationships and dynamics between two people.

With X it was un-passionate but affectionate and playful. Safe and comfortable. I often had my mind elsewhere though. It was very scripted as our relationship was but because we were inexperienced in both love and sex. In our every movement, however, you could read how much we loved each other. I often did it just because I knew it would make you happy and that ultimately made me happy too. You did everything you could to please me. Lots of kisses, quick ones on the forehead and cheeks. We were quite elegant even in being awkward, not very carnal as we often are.

With Y it was sensorial, often wide-eyed. I couldn't help but watch your lips swell, your eyes deepen, and with my hands I couldn't help but touch your chest and your neck. I would watch you when you stood up, in total amazement. Your perfect body, your moles.  Just like my general attraction to you everything was very much based on aesthetics and the senses of sight and touch. It was scripted, we always did the same things but it was beautiful and always different. Kind of like the time we spent together. It was quite disciplined like you and controlled even in losing control, like me. I was anxious at times. Especially while I had to take the lead. Kind of like in our everyday life when I was the one taking initiative or had to be in charge, I feared your judgment.  Our kisses were short and detached like we were.

With Z it was blind, in the dark. Slow. I don't remember opening my eyes for a moment.  I couldn't see your moles but I met them as my hands pressed hard on your back. I never wanted to let go or feel you pull away. I would lose track of where we were in the bed and we would find ourselves on the edge or turned upside down at the end of it. It was a bit like a dance or a meditation, just like talking to you. There was no judgment and I could feel that you were thinking about yourself and making me feel good at the same time. It was communicative, there was room to make mistakes, to ask, to talk. It was serious and deep but not very composed like you. At times shy, a bit spiritual, not very invasive like me.  The way you touched me and looked at me was passionate, sexual, but never sexualising.  You held me tightly but gently and your attention was selective, one thing at a time, one body part at a time. It wasn’t very schematic, not at all scripted just like the hours with you. Interrupted by strong muscle contractions, shivers like the ones I experience during the day while thinking of you. The kisses were strong, long, intense, starting from my bottom lip, and moving to the top one. In short it was nothing of what I imagined sex to be, but the only kind of sex I can imagine myself having with you.

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