I had always been looking for somebody who would be both primal and sensitive.

Connected to his heart and strong. Deeply present, loving, nurturing, and soft—and wild too. Sexual. In his power. 

That was you.

I have thought and talked a lot about sacred sex in time, but as an idea—because I didn’t know, until I found you. 

Until that point, I believed that a man in the bedroom, as in life, was either too soft, too tender, and even reserved—or conversely, dominant, disconnected from his heart, and possibly there in the bed with you merely for the performance, and the fact of making you orgasm—partly in order to reinforce his own pride.

Before you, the men of my life may have had technique—but they lacked presence. 

Some can miss the key point, which is: doing the love making with us, deeply connected to us—in response to our opening, to our love.

It’s funny because now that I’m typing this, I realize that the reason our sexual life is so beautiful to me, is because you gave me the love that I longed for. 

It is because of the trust that we built together that my body agreed to let you lead. 

It is because you were always present, consistent, reliable, and sure, that you didn’t meet any resistance within my body, within my soul.

It is because your masculinity was fully there, embodied, unwavering—that my body opened so much, so softly.

It’s because I trust the way that you move, that you are in this world—that I have opened that much in your arms, blossoming over and over again, like a flower.

It is because you knew how to hold space, accept, and receive all of me, without the need to change, fix, edit, or transform, that I felt safe enough to fall in love with you entirely—body, heart, and sex.

It is because I trusted your heart that I surrendered fully to you.

You lead, but you command only with respect—riding my own waves, like a sacred art of two.

Some men open your body, your love—but they end up feeling like a spell for your soul. You can regret later on, the openness and the trust that you showed.

This never happened with you. I never regretted being yours.

Because you never disconnected from us, from your commitment to be my man.

And you never made love without love.

You never penetrated your woman without feeling her, loving her.

When I started this post, I thought it would be slightly technical, or at least descriptive. 

But it isn’t, and it couldn’t be. Why? Because sex is an art that climaxes when love is mastered.

Sex is the culmination of love, perhaps. Its fully embodied expression in the flesh.

The physical zenith of two connected hearts.

“Before I understood how to open with you, I tried giving you orgasms so I knew I was a good lover. But now, all I want is your surrender. I want your heart’s pleasure to ripple through your open body and saturate my life with your love. Your body’s openness to love’s flow draws me into you, and through your heart’s surrender I am opened to the love that lives as the universe. Whether you have an orgasm or not while we make love, your body’s trust and devotional openness is my secret doorway to love’s deepest bliss.” ~ David Deida

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