The hunger is as delicious as the sate: A tribute to richer sex

Most of the sex I've had has been utterly insufficient. Most of it was all about getting to the orgasm. Taking the orgasm. As if the shortest, fastest route to somewhere is always the best.

And what a shallow way to have sex that is.

When you don't savour every sensation. When you don't mellow in the place where hunger and satisfaction intermingle. You miss all the ways those nooks and crannies open.

There are ripples of pleasure inside a woman. Even women themselves don't seem to realise the depth of it. Tightly bound ripples of nerves in all the depths of her vagina that do not open without...stillness. Presence. There are levels of pleasure she will simply never reach with a goal-oriented approach to sex.

It always baffles me how rushed some men are. How uncomfortable they are with their hunger. How much they miss that the hunger is such a magnificent part of it.

It's always like they want to be rid of it. Like the orgasm will relieve them of the discomfort of the hunger. But why? Isn't the hunger the turn on? Isn't the tension what makes us feel alive? Why are we so desperate to douse that fire with a quick orgasm? Why in God's name are we not burning in it?