Humans have a particular way they prefer things done. Whether it’s in the way you like your meals prepared, or how you like your coffee; black, with cream, or without sugar, what matters is how you enjoy it. But in a case where it involves two or more people, the question of what and how you like it must be thrown out into the open to prevent conflicts, misunderstandings, or for the sake of this column, sticking it down the wrong chute.

When it comes to the playing field of sex, foreplay, and the other sexual predilections that orbit around it, no human is an island of sexual mastery. Sex isn’t a one-remote-control-all activity and the sooner that notion is expunged the better it is for the one, two, or the plethora of partners you’re in sexual relations with.

Think of sex like those tests where the lecturer says, ‘you’re welcome to check your textbooks and ask your partner but do so quietly.’ You and your friends plop heads together and solve the problem collectively, right? Well, sex is sort of like that. Each individual, male or female, is a true master of their body. Mr. A is decent with his tongue and Miss B also knows a few tongue-twisting combos herself but when the time to boogie down comes, a lack of communication can defenestrate any sexual urge both parties share.

Kamasutra moves and a cacophony of oohs and ahhs to the side, discussing with who you’re with about what you like and how you like it is numero uno before anything else. Like I previously stated, only you decide what works best for you.

If you meet someone to whom you’re attracted enough to want to do the freaky with then communicating your bedroom do’s and don’t is very important. Let them know what holes have the yellow ‘do not cross’ tape and where’s open for tourism. That will serve you better than going with the flow because what that does is leave everything up in the air, dangling and uncertain. I’d say being with someone more experienced than you helps you find your footing in what can be murky waters. Newbie or not, I know I’ve learnt a lot about communication from women who were fairly older than I was and you know what they say about old berries.

It was towards the dying embers of my secondary school year. I had just finished writing my exam and I was preparing for my valedictory service. My best friend (female) at the time had introduced me to a dating app and I was fiddling with it; swiping right and left as required by the app. Carried away by the swift swiping motion, I accidentally swiped yes on someone who was five years older than I was at the time. I figured she wasn’t going to respond so I didn’t think too much about it. Bored and tired, I took a break from swiping and tossed my beaten-up cell phone on the dresser.

A few hours later, I returned to a notification from Tinder. “You and Jumoke are a match, say hello” which I did. From there onward, I and the 23-year-old would start a friendship but wouldn’t see each other until three years later. I was approaching my final year majoring in English and she was a freelance writer. Knowing the leeway available to freelancers, I asked her to come to visit me at school, and unreluctantly she agreed. Note, at this time I had spent time with women already so I wasn’t necessarily a novice.

Anyway, the day came and she soon found her way to my apartment gate. I went downstairs, welcomed her, and ushered her up. Her beauty was very unsuspecting; it was the type of beauty that sneaks up on you and sucker punches you in the face when you least expect it. I didn’t realise this however until her stark naked silhouette was grinding on my pelvis later that night. For someone with a slender frame, Jumoke was buxom. I found myself coming up for air multiple times as I guzzled on her breasts.

She constantly relayed to me how she wanted every stroke and thrust. Mesmerised by her vivacious bosoms, I listened to every word like a student in the front row, receiving lectures from his favourite teacher. And this teacher, I was completely enchanted and entranced by. When the time came the following morning, my lips, tongue, and mouth was her throne. Propped up by a pillow, my head was snug between her thighs as she rode my face. “Yess, that’s the spot!” as her left thigh tilted slightly above my head. She had found the right position and I didn’t care a jot if I choked to death so she could get off. I just laid there…in her moist heat. By her final day with me, she had used me dry but I had soaked in and absorbed how communication transforms and heightens sex.

Tilewa Kazeem
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