PHOTOGRAPHS TRUNK ARCHIVE
When I was in my mid-30s I had some really rather beautiful sex. What makes me describe it as beautiful sex? Well, it could be the exquisite way he touched me. Gently, he explored my body. Yes, my whole body – if you know me, you might want to sit down for this… even my feet. The most surprising bits of me became power points of arousal. When his fingertips brushed the back of my knee, I groaned. ‘Calm down, Luce, it’s your knee,’ my inner critic said, but I ignored it as he was slowly working his way up my thigh. It could be that we took our time. Oh wow, we took our time. Sexual energy was literally sloshing around my body so that when he eventually nipped at my nipple, blimey, I was drowning.
It could be that we looked into each other’s eyes. I felt connected to him through the whole experience. I sensed his delight in me and in the sex, and his respect for me and for the act that we were doing together.