Why I Love to Be F**ked Soft – TRANSCRIPT
I spoke last week about the joys of being fucked hard.
About a man who can.
A man who’s capable of throwing me around and hoisting me all over the bed, and slamming the headboard.
You know. Like a proper gentleman.
This week is an ode to the softer, slower fuck.
You need a partner who can deliver both.
Sex is medicine.
When you need and crave the hard stuff, he’s there.
And when you need to slow everything down to find yourself again, he can also navigate the soft stuff.
Expert agility in all directions and for all inflections.
Let’s be clear on a couple of things first.
Both a hard fuck and a soft fuck can go for hours.
You’ve heard me say how the #1 sexual skill a man can build is stamina.
The things that can push men over the edge are often:
- doggy style
- when she comes
- she makes a certain noise
- she looks at him like he’s a messiah god
Any of these things can take place in a harder or softer session.
I’ve connected as deeply with my partners in a wild, intense, thrash of an encounter as we have in hours-long micro-movements.
Maybe even deeper in the softness.
In a fast and furious fuck, I’m looking to be broken.
And WHEN the dam breaks, I find myself.
There’s a lot of pounding on the way there.
In a slower session, I find myself all along the way.
Every touch becomes electrified.
Every thrust is so deliberate and conscious and expansive.
I begin to feel every section of his cock, every fold of lips on mine, every indent of his fingers as they brush my body.
I wake up, cell by cell.
I occupy new cells that were previously dormant.
I can feel every pulsation of energy moving between us.
It’s a prayer that flows in slow motion.
To be clear, to fuck me softly is not the domain of a soft man.
But a soulful one.
A PRESENT one.
I’ve been with a couple of soft fuckers.
They’re repulsive.
As in, my body literally throws them off.
My vagina spits them out.
Or never warms—or wets—up to welcome them.
Not interested.
No spine. No backbone. Nothing to fuck me with.
But a hard cock and a wholly present fucker?
We slow time down and I’m going to fuck and penetrate you with every cell of my being—now we’re talking.
A soft fuck is usually by default a slow fuck.
A soft and slow fuck expands time.
Nothing is rushed. Everything is savored.
Hours go by like minutes.
Why I LOVE to Be Fked Soft #1: We enter into a trance and connect in multiple dimensions.
It’s interstellar sex.
So many people rush through penetration.
The average sexual encounter is—actually the majority of them—are under 10 minutes.
75% of men ejaculate within 3 minutes of intercourse.
And 95% of men within 5 minutes.
So… having a man with stamina—and being a man with stamina—is definitely a non-negotiable.
ANYONE rushing through sex is afraid of going deep.
Of really connecting and being seen.
In slower, softer sex, there is no hiding.
You reveal—and your partner sees—every millimeter, every cell of you.
And their love and attention and adoration penetrate it all.
It’s like being split open and every dark nook and cranny of your being is exposed to the most radiant, healing light.
These multi-hour experiences have been some of the most powerful of my life.
The softer, slower pace means that it’s much harder to lose yourself along the way.
To check out. To disassociate.
Instead, all the parts of you have the chance to catch up.
And come together.
Everything that arises in you has the chance to be integrated and alchemized.
You feel every nuance. Every pulse of flesh. Every emotion transmitted between you.
I’ve found levels of surrender and openness infinitely deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced in these time-slowed down sessions.
**
So what does this look like?
For this kind of sex, I prefer an uncomplicated position like missionary or woman on top.
I love having our bodies face to face-and-heart-to-heart.
And set up in a way you can relax into for a long time.
From the outside, it looks like nothing much is happening.
Unlike the fast and ferocious thrusting I spoke about last week and what most people characterize as sex.
You’d see very little hip movement.
Or hand motions.
I’d say you actually bow out with most of your body parts.
And you let your genitals have their own conversation.
They start speaking to each other in whispers.
In subtle thrusts and squeezes.
It’s like a meditation.
Where you block out all the other noise and stimulus.
And you go deep, deep inside.
All of your attention goes to your genitals.
And in the surrounding quiet, their voices and needs get much louder.
They’ve always had something to say.
They’ve had a path and direction for you and clear ideas of what they wanted.
But you never really bothered to listen.
So now you let them do the talking.
And you find that you involuntarily begin a back and forth conversation that you are no longer the initiator of.
But the witness to.
You watch them come alive.
They find each other.
Lost lovers reunited in an oasis.
Lifetimes have passed since they have been together and now here they are.
In this sacred space, all the grief of millennia of having been alone, and the sadness of not being seen, spill out.
You lick those tears and fill that deep well of the solitude of being human.
So that even if you never touch again, you’ve left an indelible imprint of what it means to find each other in the abyss.
You slip into a trance. Your body is gone. Your mind is gone.
Why I LOVE to Be Fked Soft #2: Your genitals are lip-locked and together they’ve found a magical portal that opens up into the universe.
I’ve had out-of-body, telepathic, transcendent experiences that defy all physical laws.
We’re tapping into the energy of creation, the portal between worlds, where we bring in new life.
We’ve opened the door and we’re balancing on the precipice.
Dipping into one world and then the other.
Some inner wound floats up to the surface that I can’t even name, and he immediately illuminates it and alchemizes it.
In that instant, my cells are re-wried.
My name changes and I become someone else.
And then something arises in him. and I wrap it in my pussy and I envelop it in so much softness and wetness that it disintegrates.
He is healed.
**
Why I LOVE to Be Fked Soft #3: The slightest movement of his cock inside of me lights up every fiber in my body.
It’s like learning to read Braille.
And after a while, even your genitals need less movement.
Because your cells, your auras, your emotions, are connecting.
Words, and now even touch, seems clumsy.
Like coarse tools made for philistines.
You’ve learned how to move pleasure back and forth and touch each other with it.
Without moving any part of your body.
He tosses, I catch.
I reach. He soothes.
You trust the silence.
It’s like people talking to fill the awkward space.
sometimes movement is like that.
you’ve already plugged in.
and now you let the electrical current and all of your inner secrets flow between you.
sometimes, movement is for amateurs.
actually i like this plug metaphor.
when you take a plug and put it into a socket, you don’t need to keep jamming it back and forth.
you know it’s connected. and you let it do its thing.
you let the medicine flow.
sometimes thrusting is a distraction.
And it keeps the demons and angels at bay.
so you lay still. and let everything come up. let it all come out to play.
and you get to know all of your hidden places.
you love and adore them in each other.
and afterwards it feels like the most important work you’ve ever done.
****
When we’re finished with each other—though we never are—we’re not the same people we were five hours ago.
We’ve re-patterned our entire beings.
We’ve rewritten our futures and our pasts.
There is nothing more sacred I’ve ever experienced than what this just was.
We get up.
not hungry.
not thirsty.
except for each other.
Still insatiable.
We look at the time. and then back at each other, because how did that happen? where did that time go?
All the five hours did was whet our appetites and remind each other of who we are.
no matter how many orgasms there were and how many hours there were.
we are still ravenous for each other. as though nothing. ever. could slake this desire.
And a million years since and a million years forward, nothing likely ever will.
Rumi in his poetry commingled the divine as god and the divine in our lover.
Constantly reaching into each other like one in the same.
because in that space of union, it’s the closest we come to it here.
it’s our gateway to it.
**
And that. ladies and gentlemen. is why I LOVE to be fked soft.
