When a guy was eating her out, she liked to look out the window, if possible For some reason, cunnilingus never did anything for her and when she did allow her lovers to go down on her it was always at their request and turned them on more than it did her. So, while her vaginal juices were being lapped up by some eager tongue, she took he time to rest and think. A window was more useful in these cases because, laying down, she looked out into the sky, the clouds and the tops of the trees. This simplistic pastoral landscape ignited in her a sense of indomitable calm and contentment.
It was in these moments when she lay utterly exposed that her mind was able to truly be free. Thoughts which wouldn’t occur to her in the confinement of clothes flooded her mind and her eyes sparkled with each new idea. She’d splay out her arms and grab fistfuls of the bed sheets, sometimes even fistfuls of her lover’s hair, as the ideas ravaged her. A smile formed itself and her mouth would open and close with the ideas that came through, as if trying to greet them all individually. She marveled at the blueness of the sky, the fluffiness of the clouds, the sharpness of the pine needles that entertained her eyes. She played games with passing clouds, seeing in them animals, symbols and ideas. Birds flew by and she smiled at them, feeling their freedom in herself. That lightness of being, the glory of herself, the liberty of sex.
Moans would escape and sometimes a giggle and her lover would be encouraged to continue on, believing these to be in direct relation to his oral skills. But these noises had nothing to do with her body. They were purely mental, the results of awe at the ability of her own mind. She felt euphoric and she felt like dancing, painting, creating, but more than anything she was happy to just be. She was glad to exist, to be alive and able to experience the euphoria and these epiphanies. She was happy to be a part of the world in which she failed to find beauty until those moments when she was sprawled out on a bed with a devoted lover between her thighs.
Sometimes these would last for hours, other times they ended far too soon. Either way, she came out of her stupor with a smile and saw the world in a new light. After those times when she would make love to her partner, she would genuinely mean it. After those times she truly loved the man, whomever he happened to be: a random from the bar, a guy she was dating, a long-time admirer she’d previously not given the time of day. In that moment he was the only person she needed or wanted and it was after escapades like these that the guy would inevitably fall for her despite having planned to only use her to fulfill the needs of his raging libido. The way she would touch him, move with him, look at him all sent him wild: it was always the ideal mix of everything and the result was always the man giving way to his emotions and allowing himself to fall in love with her.
She never noticed and, if she did, she didn’t care. It wasn’t about love or sex, it wasn’t about him or her. The entire act was nothing more than a manifestation of her utter satisfaction to just exist. That was it: it was just embracing the moment when one is glad to simply be.