I find it very hard to relax.
In today's society (and I'm going to keep this brief, because this is a sex blog and not Comment Is Free), one is not encouraged to relax. In my life, for example, I'm required to be in college about three or four days a week, and use the rest of my time to work on stuff I'm supposed to be working on (only I'm not, because I haven't got any stuff to work on, because despite wanting us to work on it, the college haven't given us any stuff). But I digress.
I find it difficult to sleep; last night was particularly bad, tossing and turning all night until I finally looked at my clock and saw a big digital 3 on its display. That shouldn't have been there. As the clocks go back an hour this weekend, I don't want to have to see that twice in the same night.
So, during the day I find myself wanting to find stuff to do (other than messing about on the Internet, relentlessly tapping the screen on my DS and reading improving books); at night, when I'm not meant to be doing anything, I can't get into the state of doing nothing...
...and this is where the sex comes into it.
The calm that follows love-making works on many different levels, and (although there's nothing to support this) I suppose that how intense the sex is works in a directly proportional way to how rested you feel afterwards.
Case in point...
I had sex nary on two days ago which was wonderful, frantic, and very very intense to the point of being quite scary. We hadn't had sex for a bit, and once we were in the mood, with curtains drawn and the appropriate clothes off (but not all, natch), it was difficult to stop! Indulgence in the oral pleasure that really gets me going (so what it does to her, I couldn't possibly guess), followed by energetic and almost ecstatic sex with plenty of movement and more than a little noise (ahem), a simultaneous orgasm from both of us and a short moment of calm afterwards...
...but I needed more.
So I said I was going to clean up, and slid back downwards, for more oral sex, only this time the taste was more tangy than usual, because of the extra salt content I'd managed to discharge through my bad behaviour. This was good. I was up for more, and I was giving more. No rules or regulations, no personal targets. No time for us to be anywhere - just time for sex. I was back between her legs, where I wanted to be.
We then had sex again, this time covered in sweat, which isn't too common for love-making on a crisp Autumnal day. Not that I was paying much attention to what the weather was doing, mind you... I was focusing all my energy on my pulsating cock, which was getting what it most truly needed at the time - a wet hole to penetrate.
We came again, with a shout of lusty pleasure, and only then did I collapse. Not with exhaustion, though; this was more of a release, less of a tired slump.
"How do you feel?" I asked in a dark brown voice.
"Rested," came her reply.
And she'd hit the nail on the head. I lay there, satiated, feeling (for the first time in a long time) truly at peace with everything. I held her hand, gently, feeling myself drift off for a second, not wanting to move, or even do anything other than breathe and feel my heart beat. That's the clincher; that's now I want to be able to feel.
Rested. No troubles, no worries, no time. Just at rest.
Isn't love amazing?