When it is hot, like it was in NYC this past weekend, most people are probably not thinking about sex. Yet, for me, its different. I love sex in the heat. A moist hairy body mixing cleanly with my sweat. The awareness of the rise in temperature because motion creates emotion. In those long and languorous moments the humidity in the air is like a blanket protecting that passion and intimacy.
The memories came flooding back.
I remember after I graduated college, what sex was like. After 6 months living at home, I moved back down to school to move-in with my boyfriend (now ex-husband) as he finished his Engineering degree. We were dating for a year at that point. I got a job at a bank full-time and on weekend afternoons in the summers, when there wasn’t much too do to beat the heat, we would revel it. We would stay in bed all day, naked – touching, playing, cuddling and fucking. I wanted his limbs on mine. I couldn’t get enough of his hairy body. It didn’t matter how hot it got. While there were other days of the week that sex was still awesome, nothing beat those hazy Saturdays.
Fast forward 10 years, that memory was recreated ironically with a man very similar to my ex-husband (we divorced in 2004). I needed him inside me. The desire was so deep. A truly carnal feeling that if I didn’t have him, I would surely die from the wanting. All afternoon. There was not much foreplay. Our eyes spoke and then he was on top of me, pushing in me, face buried into my neck. I felt his breath there, the pounding of his heart against my chest. The sweat and hair brushing rubbing against my skin.
Yesterday, reminded me of those times. So hot, you think the humidity may burn you alive but the passion and sexual friction burns like a slow ember, because like a boy scout you know how to make that fire last.
Music mood: Rolling Stones ” You can’t always get what you want”
the matches xo