ver time, I've noticed that direct pressure with the mouth is good, very good. Direct pressure with the hand is sometimes too much, uncomfortable. I've watched women with themselves and seen that they tend to use a circular, pulsing motion, applied from above or from the side. I learned that passionate kissing doesn't have to be messy or aggressive when you trace each other's lips with mouths closed. It's also a very good way to get juices flowing elsewhere. The beauty of slow, gradual, calm, and patient was revealed to me. My lover and I could go on for hours this way and never get sore, tired or over stimulated. Sex became symphonic, a performance in three parts. First, the playful allegro -- I explored her with a light, felicitous, and feathery touch, teasing her senses awake. Then, with the adagio, I settled into a soothing rhythm as I tuned into her bliss, and heightened it by slow degrees. Finally, in the rondo allegro, we both hurried to ecstasy, agitated as hungry children. The most unexpected part of this shift to soft was becoming feminized, changed into something other than what I had always been. Since the great thing about sex is its Strange Fruit quotient, the experiencing of otherness, this passport into being Her was the ultimate sexiness.