How Naked, Is Your Naked?

3 min read

Hey. Close the door. I want to take my clothes off for you.

I know you well. You’ve touched my body. You’ve been inside me. You’ve sat beside me and laughed with me. We’ve had disagreements and you’ve watched me cry. You’ve heard me peeing after sex, even though I turn the tap on and pretend like you don’t hear. You’ve seen me eat salad and get ranch dressing on my chin (and a peppercorn on my tooth). You’ve questioned my emotional intelligence. And lastly, I’ve overcooked your steak.

Tonight, I’m going to striptease for you. So watch me as I look you in the eyes.

The room is silent. You can smell my vanilla perfume wafting in the air. You move your eyes away from mine as I look down to undress.

I used to ask my boyfriends if I could striptease for them. I never asked because I wanted to impress them. I did it because I wanted to get lost in a moment I’m in control of.

I unbutton my jeans and raise up on my toes. I spin around lowering them down to my ankles. I bend over so you can see my hands graze over my thighs down to my toes.

Getting lost in a moment I control. Some men are uncomfortable watching their girlfriend play a role. I’m not someone new and new is inherently exciting. I’m not a seductress at work in a dimly-lit club, teasing and playfully flirting to the sound of the music. I’m in a man’s bedroom, vulnerable; most often in silence. There are no surprise reveals. You know my body too well.

I’m pacing myself. I turn back around and look at you. I lift my top over my head revealing my lace bra. I wore this bra hoping you’d find it pretty and feminine. Look into my eyes again.

Where is your mind when you are naked… Are you planning dinner? Are you self-conscious about the roughness of your dry summer feet? Are you holding back on your deep fantasies because you’re too afraid to ask? Maybe your partner has already denied the request? There are a million things that happen inside our minds during the vulnerable state of sexual activity. It is rare to have both partners on an equal agenda for creating a raw sexual experience. But that’s okay. Because all you need is one person to drive that agenda.

My heart is beating fast with excitement. I smile because you’re watching. I don’t want you to do anything but live in this playful moment with me. It won’t last long. I climb onto your bed but I don’t want you to touch me. Stay silent and keep watching.

If you’re a girl: are you making a conscious effort to be in attractive poses while fucking? I know a lot of women who don’t even enjoy sex, they just go through the motions because they don’t want to let go of the man. How honest are you being with yourself?

If you’re a man: are you focusing on how your performance is affecting the girl? Are you waiting to cum so she can orgasm first? Is she ultimately just a vessel for your release? Perhaps you fall in love too easily and fuck her at an emotional distance for self preservation.

I trace my fingers around your lips. I move my hand back to my bra as I trace along the outer edges of the cups. I reach in and graze over my nipple. You kiss me and I crumble into your body.

In For Love of the Game Kevin Costner plays a professional ballplayer. There’s a scene where he is attempting to focus on pitching in spite of the crowd of spectators yelling and cursing. Costner internally dialogues, “clear the mechanism.” Suddenly, the spectators are blurred out and the sound is dulled to silence. His character’s attempt to minimize one of his senses to amplify another is successful. He detaches himself from his surroundings and focuses solely on his body movements.

I sit face to face with a man at dinner. I reapply my lip gloss after a sip of water. I cross my legs and accidentally brush my foot against his calf. I wonder if he thinks I did that on purpose. I’m attracted to men who are capable of seeing through bullshit. “I stroked your calf by accident,” I tell him, “but I would like to do it on purpose.” I look him in the eyes and slide down in my chair. I let my shoe drop off my foot and press my toe into the back of his knee, sliding it down to his ankle. I lightly brush my foot against his as I lift myself back up in my chair.

For a multitude of reasons I’ve recently become fascinated with the bio-mechanics of baseball pitching. FYI, I still can’t walk you through the game rules in their entirety. Nevertheless, I am fascinated with pitching. When Costner utters those words and detaches himself from the crowd, he is able to focus solely on the mechanics of his body and reach maximum performance. Mentally zoning in can be achieved through mental practice. It is encouraged in the sport to focus on the body.

I place my hand on the table and he doesn’t place his over mine. I like that. I don’t want to be courted. Touch me only when you really want to. Don’t let the world tell you when you have to touch me. Be real with me. I lean down to take a bite of my chicken. Strands of hair get caught in my lip gloss and I wipe it away quickly. But when we’re naked later… when you’re fully immersed in me, I shouldn’t be thinking about hair caught in my mouth as I breathe deep into the pillow gasping for air. In that moment we are two bodies. Clear the mechanism.

A pitcher doesn’t care what his body looks like during a freeze frame of his acceleration. Through years of mental and physical practice he is optimizing the way his body throws the ball. He is letting go while simultaneously giving his all.

Suspend your disbelief. Let go and work harder for something greater.

Don’t kiss me. Bring your lips over to me and press them onto mine.

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