I started to write this piece in January of last year.
I had asked Ruf how he felt about it being the second anniversary of the day we first made love and his reply certainly brought me up short:
‘But we didn’t make love, we fucked!’
And he’s right. For the first few months, that is absolutely what it was. Even though when he texted me he would sign off with ‘Love you’, he didn’t, not really. Not in the true sense of the word. We fucked, pure and simple. Rough, animal, primal sex in ever changing positions and scenarios, pounding each other to satisfy an immediate urge.
I can remember the first time that things changed. He announced that he was going to make love to me and the sex was slow and gentle. It felt as if he made me a part of him. He kept whispering how much he loved me in my ear, against my neck, his lips moving the words on mine. Our bodies were so tightly melded together, belly to belly, thigh to thigh as my legs wrapped around his and drew him ever closer. My orgasm was quiet and soft, but so fulfilling.
The reason I remember it so clearly is that, an hour later, he took me by the hand and led me to the sofa. There was something he needed to tell me. It was a confession that resulted in big fat tears rolling down my cheeks and the sudden realisation that I could lose this.
It was a few months in… and we had hit a blip.
After a distressing exchange, we retired back to bed. Not for sex, but to try to begin working through the difficulty in that naked haven where there was nowhere to hide and we both felt totally at ease.
Three years on, we seem to copulate in a variety of ways. Sometimes we fuck furiously, sometimes we experiment and sometimes we gently make love to each other and there is a definite difference. The fucking is wild and abandoned, rough and rampant, as opposed to the communicative camaraderie of experimentation or the lovemaking, gentle and controlled as we surround ourselves with each other’s flesh and extract one another’s orgasm with the intensity of our feelings.
But at the foundation of each is a mutual celebration of this amazing connection that grew between us.
A few weeks ago, I found this over at Z’s The Naked Truth. I think it explains rather better what I was trying to say.
You can say it’s making love, because it’s silent and intense and trailed with kisses. You can say it’s making love because it’s focused and intent and imbued with tenderness. But you can’t say it’s not fucking when my hips rise to meet his, and you can’t say that the fuck of before or the savage selfishness of the one next morning are more loveless or less loveful or that any of them outpace the others in an animal slaking of lust and desire. You can’t quantify it by the frenzy or lack of it, but only by the connection, and that is as likely to be found in the white heat of desperate fucking as it is in the sensuous warmth of the slow dark. It’s just a different dance to a different tune, but the band is still the same.
I respectfully disagree with you. The way you describe the difference between fucking and making love explains the difference much more clear than the selection from “Z’s The Naked Truth.”
I have gone through the exact feelings you describe so eloquently. My lady and I have discussed this often.
As you well know, being in love AND in lust with your partner is the ULTIMATE human experience. It is the TRUE meaning of sex! I am blessed to have experienced this in my lifetime.
I’m going to include part of your selection in my blog. Thank you.
Hello Bill! Thank you x
I’m so glad that I’m not alone in experiencing these wonderful sensations.
Unfortunately, in the transfer to the new domain, I seem to have lost any other comments on this post when it was originally published on Blogger. It would have been interesting to look back at them.
I am 69 and my fiancee is 64. We met mid-February 2010. We both had lost our spouses recently. But we found each other and found not only an instant connection, but we found that we shared an equal desire for sex. The first few months we fucked, in every position we could. I knew we would be together for a long time, but it took a few months to allow myself to love her. As I started telling her I love her, our sex changed as well. It became love making, more slow and soft with lots of cuddling and kissing. We still get wild on occasion, and we are definitely both in love and in lust. I had hoped that when I had attained this age, I could find a woman that would want sex at least once a week, twice would be heaven. Well, would you believe that in these 8 months we probably have averaged once a day. Some days we are just too tired and simply cuddle and love each other, but often we’re awake at 3:00 AM screwing away. On the weekends, we usually have sex 3 – 4 times a day, and that averages out those days when we don’t. We both so totally enjoy each other and plan to continue with this frequency until we’re 100.
Hi Fives James! Way to go! I think this is fabulous and I’m so pleased that you took the time to share. Ruf and I have reached an amazing intensity in our connection. It’s not always lovemaking – as you said, sometimes it’s just cuddling. But knowing that someone feels the same way about you, hearing the words and responding in kind is vital to building an enduring relationship. Too often we all just lose interest and stop making an effort and the bedroom part of the partnership dies a slow death that can eat away at the foundations of any togetherness.
In the eyes of many younger people, the more mature are not meant to enjoy bedtime. It gives me such hope for the future that Ruf and I can still be experiencing the same thrills as we get older. Thank you again for posting x
It’s fucking when you’re both desperately striving towards orgasmic release from the first fingers.
It’s making love when orgasm isn’t the goal from the first kiss, but the complete communion of your bodies and minds is, and when orgasm is actually held off as long as possible because you just hate the thought of having to end the exquisite enjoyment of the all engrossing closeness that you both feel.
Doesn’t this depend on what stage your relationship is at? We all remember great fucks with strangers and i for one remember a special boyfriend the sex was so different
Joanna, I love this post (and all of your blog in general). I came across this doing a websearch on people opinions on the difference between fucking and making love after a particularly heated debate with my s/o and her friends. They are a few years younger than I, and were quite blase on any differences at all.
I see that this entry is a few years old now. My question to you is have your feelings changed much on the topic? Or been reinforced through more experience. Does fucking still become making love for you the same way?
Hey CU – thank you for your kind words. Ruf and I still fuck furiously sometimes and I think that naked lust contrasts quite starkly with the times when we actually make love slowly and gently. However, it’s just different ways of expressing our desire for each other – which can be very dependent upon circumstance and time apart, although that’s not to say that distance naturally perpetuates the lust because, on many occasions we make love after a long absence. It is the variation that makes our love so special and, hopefully, enduring.
Thanks so much for the quick reply! Your writing is so erotically descriptive. Pls oh pls consider doing a more expanded blog post telling of a time where you felt that you and Ruf had fucked contrasted with a time that you genuinely feel like you ‘made love’. I would love to read it. Thanks again!
C., I will see what can be done… although life has rather taken over at the moment and, much to Ruf’s chagrin, there is rather a dirth of nakedness!