Bad Sex

by Ian Jade

I had a visit last night from my lover. We see each other when we can, but time and distance prevent us from spending a lot of time together. This visit was much needed, as we’ve both been going through a lot in the past couple of weeks.

So she arrived; we collapsed into a hug (and other things) that did the work of about a month of counselling; I cooked us a nice dinner; after eating, we headed up to bed. More sex, and hugs, and massaging her back, as we lay watching a show we both enjoy. Snuggles happened.

In the morning, she waited patiently for me to stop snoring and go make breakfast. We made love again briefly afterwards, then she left (later than planned) to go and finish her weekend of stuff before heading back to the office on Monday.

If I say so myself, the food was seriously good. The sex, as usual, was fine, with me managing to lead her to several orgasms before finishing myself. We played less than we normally do; circumstances dictated a gentler and simpler approach to everything, and frankly there wasn’t time to linger over her as much as I would have liked.

I have spent most of today with a nagging feeling of dissatisfaction; the lingering suspicion that things could have gone better, that this was a waste of a precious opportunity to be together. I ate. I thought. I napped. I thought. I wasted some time and missed some equally precious sunshine. And then, finally, I realised what I had been forgetting all day:

The very worst sex I have had with my lover STILL left me happier and more deeply satisfied than I have ever been in my other relationships. A scant 14 hours with her (mostly asleep) recharges me like nothing else. Cooking for her is a pleasure, not a chore, however much it cuts into our other activities, and cutting down on our explorations and games makes the sex merely very, very good indeed.

Even at a pretty low point for both of us, a night of hurried “bad sex” still ranks among the best either of us has ever had.

This time last year I had no idea just how wonderful sex with the right partner can be, and since then I have been utterly spoiled by her. Whenever we have had the chance our meetings have been literally epic – filled to the brim with physical and mental stimulation, hedonistic sensuality and sheer togetherness. Our relationship has raised my standards so high that something less than perfection took me by surprise and left me wanting more. It took me all day to realise what an idiot I was being, and how much luckier I am even than I suspected.

They say that sex is like pizza – even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.

I think it’s more like home cooking – done a certain way, with love, it never fails to satisfy. Even if you don’t always get time for dessert.