magic life of two

Just Sex. Good Sex. Magic Sex.

Sex is everywhere and it sells like crazy. So much so that it lost most of its meaning, and it is regarded, more often than not, as a sport. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem with that. I think what people do in the bedroom and the position they do it in, it’s not really my business. My point is that, with a little consideration and care in choosing the partner, sex can become the stuff of legends. For both sides.

Here is what I figured learning from my experience and from some conversations with friends.

Disclaimer: I am heterosexual. This article refers to woman-man sexual relationship for no other reason than that.

The mathematics of just sex.

Usually sex happens when there is some attraction between two people (let’s stick with that for now, shall we?). It usually starts physical and, in some cases, it also ends there.
You become smitten with man’s smell, hands or eyes, his lumberjack shirt or sexy smile. You chat for a while, misinterpreting every ludacris thing he says, just because … well, look at his abs! Or his butt! Or his dreamy curls.
You finally get to a cosy place, drunk with hormones or Martinis or whatever and “Wow, how strong his grip is! Yeah, baby! I could get used to this.” And then …

a. He quickly moves to action, because, hey, why waste time on the boobbies or neck or butt or whatever? This is just sex!

b. Subtly hints to oral, because you have the “Hey, I don’t know you, but I’m sure as hell I wanna blow you” plaque hanging around my neck.

c. You are on top, but he imposes his rithm. I mean, cummon dude, I might look like a flower, but I do know how to fuck.

d. He is on top, comes quickly, you fake an orgasm, get dressed and part ways.

There might be a few other meh! options. All in all, at the end of just sex you usually have the feeling you have checked something off our list. At the end of just sex nobody gains anything, just looses a few calories.

No bullshit. Size doesn’t really matter. Good sex.

Men with small-normal ding-dongs wish they’d have a bigger one. Men with bigger-than-average ding-dongs parade about their size. Yeah, nothing has changed since kindergarden.


Women usually look for men with big johns just to experiment the feeling. It’s like going to circus. You are amazed by the freak show, but you wouldn’t want to take it home. I have talked to quite a few women and virtually none of them said “I love the donkey size”. They did, however, say

“I once knew a dude, woo-hoo!”
“Did you like it?”
“Not really. What could I have done with all that junk?!”

So no, for good sex, size doesn’t really matter. Unless you are frustrated and lonely dude. And the size of your penis is pretty much the only consolation you have in your life.

Good sex means both partners get what they need. Mentally and physically. It usually implies some form of communication or a mutual sense for each other’s feelings. It can be tender or rough, love making or passionate fucking, whichever makes you comfortable works. The key is always intimacy and openness of both sides.

Doesn’t matter if it’s a one-night-stand or a relationship, when you have good sex, you feel fulfilled, recharged, peaceful. After good sex nobody leaves thinking about world hunger or global warming.

What does matter? Magic sex.

With one exception, when it obviously sucked (no pun intended), in my experience, I always thought I had good sex. And I believed that good, great, amazing, etc, was the ultimate level of sex.

Well, it’s not. There is such thing as magic sex.

If you ever created something in your life (making a kid works as well), you know what I mean. Magic sex is when you abandon yourself to the other, and the other to you. Magic sex dissolves the world around you and creates a new one. It’s a feeling of high that I am pretty sure throws hormone levels off the chart.

Magic sex is freedom and completeness. You will know for sure when you have it, because you have never felt like that before. And when you do, don’t lose it, because it’s rare.

I don’t really think that this kind of sex is possible without love and I honestly believe this should be actually called “love making”. But our world is far from perfect and, unfortunately, Danielle Steel has ruined this expression for us.

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