The Dramatic Structure of Sex
The other night I had the most delicious daydream.
I’m lying naked in [Name Redacted]’s bed waiting for him to come home.I’m feeling extra anxious because I’ve been waiting a long time for [Name Redacted] to fuck me and the time is almost here. Finally, [Name Redacted] walks into the room. He comes over to the edge of the bed and looks down at me until I stand up to greet him.
I put my arms around his neck, groaning softly in his ear as he runs his cold hands up and down my back, still warm from his bed. I let him go and begin undressing him as he watches me with a self-satisfied smirk. When he’s naked, I push him down on the bed.
I straddle him, hovering close enough that he can feel the heat of me on his dick, but not quite touching him. Holding on to his wrists and staring into his eyes I lower myself onto him, rubbing my pussy along the length of his epic cock, letting him feel how ready I am. Then I raise myself up again, hovering over him, raising myself higher with each of his attempts to angle himself for entry. Then I lower myself down again, rocking my hips slowly back and forth and grinding myself onto him. I keep this up, rubbing on his dick and then raising myself up and away from him as I remind him how much I want him inside me, how long he’s kept me waiting. I ask him if he wants me, what he’s planning to do with me.
Instead of answering he raises himself up so that he is above me, my arms pinned over my head, the head of his dick resting against my pussy. Watching me intently he begins to push himself inside me and I gasp as I feel myself expand for him, sigh when I feel the full length of him. I wrap my legs around his back as he long-strokes me, whispering words like “yes” and “please” in his ear. He begins to increase his pace, changing the angle until he hits the spot, that spot that makes panting turn to moaning. I’m clutching his back, pulling him deeper into me, wanting to crawl into his skin.
He strokes harder, reaching under me to grip my ass and he fucks me like he’s trying to break me. He keeps hitting that spot and my moaning turns to cries of “more” and ‘’harder” as he grips me and moves me where he wants me to be. And still he’s hitting that spot. I tell him that I love his dick, love the way he fucks me, no one fucks me like this. I tell him I’m about to cum and I tell him I want him to cum with me, I want to feel him.
And then there is no talking, only the sound of him pounding me, the rasp of his breath as he pants in my ear, my groans as the screaming O overtakes me. The wave builds and then breaks as he explodes inside me. Then he collapses on top of me and all is silent as our hearts beat wildly and I struggle to catch my breath. My tongue is tied and I’m seeing stars as my mind flips between loving and hating him for being so fucking good.
Because I am both a bookworm and a horndog, one of the things I love the most about sex is its resemblance to dramatic structure. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end; all of which are essential to the development of the story arc and each of which is exciting in its own right. Whenever I look back at really epic sex (even if it only happened in my head) I always break it up into parts and try to figure out which is my favourite. But picking your favourite part of sex is kind of like picking your favourite hip hop song; nearly impossible because – just by virtue of being part of sex – they are all amazing.
For many people, it’s all about the exposition. This is basically everything that happens before the clothes come off; the back story, the sexual tension, the anticipation. It’s the point before the point before the point of no return; where all signs indicate something epic is about to happen, but there’s still the possibility that it could go left. The part where every nerve ending in your body is heightened in anticipation of his hands on you, like the moment before you jump off the cliff or before the roller coaster begins its descent. A lot of people get off on that breathless anticipation.
But then there is the inciting moment – the incident without which there would be no story – in my daydream it’s when I push [Name Redacted] down on the bed. But whatever form it takes, the inciting moment is when you sigh in relief because what you want so desperately to happen is finally beginning to happen. This is the part where your entire body signs in relief that the person you want so desperately is finally, FINALLY touching you.
Once you start touching, the rising action comes. This is long stroking in the story above, where your bodies begin to meld together. This is the point where you start to know how the story is going to end – you’re either going to skim your way through most of it or it’s about to be the greatest story ever told – and you start to pace yourself accordingly.
As you move from your first position to the next one, as the pace starts to increase and the moans get louder, the tide begins to turn and the end is in sight, you move into the climax. This is when heads are thrown back and your features contort into sex face. The part where everything in you is focused on your goal. This is when you’re just hoping like hell that this man is not going to stop doing exactly what he’s doing and throw you off the path. The part where you do whatever you can to blow your partner’s fucking mind and get them to explode.
If all goes according to plan, the instant after climax you get to the falling action. If your sex is a comedy rather than a tragedy, this is when you’re riding the waves of your orgasm. (If your sex is a tragedy, this is when you get blue balls). This is the part where you are officially better off than you were when you started. (Or you’re mad as hell). The part where you’re either incoherent, or you’re screaming out shit you really shouldn’t be saying. Where nothing in the entire fucking world matters but what you’re feeling right then.
Once things start to settle down, you get to most girl’s favourite: the dénouement. This is when you cuddle
while secretly wondering when you can get up and go home and tell secrets. The part where you’re stroking each other idly, affectionately, with no real goal in mind. Where your man starts to drift off to sleep (he can’t help it ladies) and you look down at him and let the thoughts that you pushed away during the rising action run their course.
If I had to choose my favourite part of sex, I think it would be the inciting action. If I’m gonna cry while fucking, this is the point where the sex tears will start flowing. That first moment when what you’ve wanted so badly is finally inside you….there is nothing better than that.
But what do you guys think? Does your mind split sex into parts, or do you look at it as a whole? Do you have a favourite moment of sex? It’s Friday – overshare in the comments.