Whether we agree with it or not, the wh*res are winning and the meaning of sex has changed over years—it means less of anything today, except the accompanying fun. The only thing that has stayed intact is the sweat; the positions have changed, the shouting has gotten louder and the spanking has turned into abuse—some call it whipping.
The removal of the traditional s*x veil has left it without any ‘sacrosanct status’ and today, there are so many people out there who are ready to offer it for free; devoid of any emotional commitment or even financial gains.
It’s just fun to many people and as such, it is offered with ease without any critical evaluation of the aftermath. In fact, there is no aftermath except to wake up, put on your panties solely just as you pulled it off alone—and walk out of the room, if it didn’t happen in the park or a car.
When I was in my early 20s, things were a little different. I had special panties that I wore for the act and I had to prepare my mind for it no matter how many times I did it. The romance could not be separated from the ‘bang bang’ and even though I wanted it, I had to be still convinced, pressured or persuaded to giving in.
I didn’t have to take off my panty all alone and the excitement that always popped on the face of the man when the panty was finally on the floor alone was priceless. Even before the intimate session, I was treated like a Queen and the entire day if not few days leading to the act was like my birthday.
Slowly, the guy attempts to buy your mind, your body and understanding with charming little things with respect being the central element of the indirect persuading.
Eventually when you agree to visit (knowing it was going to happen that day), you wear the best of your panties and bra—and for his bargain, the sheets would be cleaned, things set in a perfect order for just that 15 minutes of pleasure which transcends fun into the emotional borders, characterised by the giveaway of your pride.
Even after the act, the pampering would continue and the circle will repeat itself until the next happens. The immediate awkwardness would still exist and mostly, the guy had to do a lot to assure you that, the respect he has for you is still intact—nothing has changed even after seeing your n*kedness.
Perhaps, these were the days women were treated as women and not as sex objects, the latter being a product of the speedy cosmopolitan society we’ve found ourselves. Of course, made worse by the diminishing status of our morals, self pride, lack of personal respect and technology…
The speed at which the world is moving has ploughed a lot of things into a corresponding rapid motion, including where and how to get s*x. No one seems to have the time or endurance to get to know anyone for even a week or two, no one is interested in taking another to dinner, the park or cinema before making the obvious intention well known.