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Sex is art

We were all day toying with the idea; whispering things in our ears, rubbing, fantasizing…

We are in Amsterdam. Tonight, we decided to go to the Red Light District, for once not as simple tourists.

I had hardly heard of this peep shows in some movie. I had never been near one, let alone a prostitute. My heart is racing. Without a doubt, I’m crossing my boundaries.

It’s getting dark and we’re heading for the place. I’m tense. I giggle and so does he, though he tries to hide it. I feel my blood running through my veins just by thinking of it, a mixture of adrenaline, lust and desire.

We arrive. He grabs my hand confidently. We head towards the darkness. He opens the door. Inside there’s a small dark cabin, a window with a dim light and a chair. We can both hardly fit inside. I sit on his lap.

Through the window, we see a half-naked woman. She touches herself sensually. She licks herself. Her slow dance is fascinating. I am hypnotized for seconds, minutes, hours; I lose track of time. I feel electricity running through my body. I blush and thank it is dark everywhere.

Suddenly, shame and prude run through me.

I have to set these feelings aside. I decide to seize the moment and let myself get carried away. He wraps his strong arms around me and my whole body immediately quivers. He gently turns and presses me against him while I leave my hypnotic state. On his lap, I open my legs and feel his firm erection against my body. Suddenly, the tension is unbearable.

I look at him. His eyes seem aroused and burning. He grips my hair and strongly pulls my head backwards. My neck is now clear. He strokes it with his tongue, with his lips. He fondles my breasts with his mouth through my clothes. He lets go of me.

I pull off his pants and immediately feel him inside me. The feeling takes me to a primary state.

Our movements are slow, precise. We’re so excited we can hardly move. My heart races, I feel it’s pounding out of my chest.

With a smooth movement, he firmly grasps my neck with his hand and slips the other one beneath my shirt. He strokes my nipples, softly pinches and kisses them. I slightly lean backwards.

I feel my mind and body are not one, as if I were an observer of the events happening around me. Me, him, the woman, us. My body is shaking and my legs weaken. I let myself get carried away… It is more than erotic, it’s fascinating.

“Sex is art… Life is art. Be wonderful and creative into every aspect of your life. (…) The world is spectacular.” Sally Mustang

Translated by MA