A “random sample” of Canadian and U.S. sex therapists say that intercourse of seven to 13 minutes is most “desirable.” The survey of North American experts, published in the Journal of Sexual Medicine, states that three- to seven-minute penetrative sex is “adequate” and 10- to 30-minute intercourse is “too long.” Some studies show that Americans expect penetrative sex to last between 15 and 20 minutes, even though it is usually over in less than half that time.
One, wow, reassuring. Because sex blogging is dead (I haven’t told anyone yet officially, so don’t leak this, embargo! embargo! you have been warned, you bastards, and you whores), I can feel utterly FREE TO TELL YOU that I fit on the better side of this curve. More or less: I can tell you that my alarm went off at 8 this morning, and I slept until 8:15 when I told Nick I had a dream about him fucking me in the cab on the way to the airport, and god we haven’t had sweet slow sex in forever, but then really it’s only been the last few days because this having dates with other people has turned into us meeting up the next day as soon as we can and fucking insanely as we tell each other about our last night’s exploits. So. Maybe it had been a week.
“But we’ll be so late” but he went for my breasts anyway, which was always how I knew our waking-up-together was going to turn into morning sex when we started all of this a year ago. He was tender, which I’m not afraid to say to him now. I didn’t have anyone there in a lab coat to verify, and making sex “normal” by slicking it up with “science” is so 2007, so I can’t say, and is it really only SEX BLOGGING if it’s about how long and where and why we fucked, of course it’s NOT, but I do know that I uncurled from his chest and his side and his legs at 9:30.
Hooray, we’re more than adequate!
And fuck sex blogging. I’ve been writing in the white heat of post-orgasm for an audience since I was 16 and put out an illegal newspaper in my high school. My rule for not committing all these new sins of blogging about sex we’re supposed to be holding each other to — calls to privacy, call to not talk about it unless it’s love, calls to blur faces, calls to jump from blog to blog and name to name until we give up, to not do it to become a celebrity and to only do it if it pays and to sell a book and to not sell out and to somehow tell the truth without breaking a secret — my rule for not fucking up? Don’t have any sex in the first place I wouldn’t want to have a story told about. And when possible, get on the story first myself.
