We always talk when we’re done. We lie next to each and often ask the same question: what did you like best?

“I liked when you told me not to come.  I thought it was too late, but you stopped and looked at me, and my whole body tensed up around me.”

She looks at me after she’s answered and I know it’s my turn. Everything comes to mind at once, and I have trouble forming words.  There’s no pressure, but I want to be clear.  I want to be precise.

“I liked when you lay back on the bed.  You looked at me unsure if you should open your thighs or keep them closed, and when you finally made up your mind I knew what game we were playing.”

If we talk long enough, answer with enough detail, and move into the realm of what we might have done, it starts all over again.  And that time, we know just what to do.

—Guy New York