Sex is in the brain. The kind of sex that is wet and noisy and muscle cramping and not the kind of sex that is penis and vagina and testosterone and estrogen. In other words: fucking as opposed to reproductive roles. Coitus not gender. But the meaning of sex is more expansive than just intercourse. You can use words to describe the physical act but without the brain it is a meaningless endeavor. An event without content. Merely a biological process. It’s fucking boring.
Exciting sex is dependent on the circumstance. What are you thinking? What led up to the sex. Where is the sex? And of course the often overlooked until it’s too late aspect of sex, what the fuck happens after the sex? If you are having any kind of coherent thought during the sex then it is boring. If there is a magical sequence of curiosity, sexual tension, flirting, teasing, guilt, resolve, over powering imagination, weakening resolve, electric excitement and ultimately failed restraint, then the sex is exciting. If the sex takes place at the location where restraint failed or there is a hurried, manic trail leading from location of the failed restraint to the place of sex, then the sex is exciting. If you aren’t racked with guilt and driven to momentary despair by the aftermath of the sex then the sex was boring. It’s boring.
Exciting sex is so reliant on the brain that the actual physical act is secondary to the events surrounding the physical act. The actual physical act is secondary to the brain’s interpretation of the events surrounding the physical act. Interpretation. Of course the aforementioned sequence is my sequence but your brain must determine its own sequence. A sequence that leads to real sex. Brain sex. Boring?
